


Akai Ito

by Amber_Cyanide



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: A multitude of characters from the series will be featured, M/M, Post-Chairman Election Arc (2011 anime remake only), overarching storyline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 125,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Cyanide/pseuds/Amber_Cyanide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when the proof was staring them in the face, they both couldn't believe this was really happening.</p><p>But it was far too late to turn back now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A woman disguised as a girl sat in silence with her chin in her hands. Numbly, her mind tried to piece together what had just happened to her not moments ago. Her shadow crept onto the wall behind her as the sunset glared through her kitchen window. Magenta eyes didn’t see the floor they stared at; it felt like hours had passed and she still couldn’t bring herself to move. She couldn’t believe it . . .

_“Find Gon. Take him under your wing one more time.”_

Ging Freecss came to her and said those words. He left without a trace of ever being in her living room. Ging found her and then disappeared like it was the simplest thing in the world. She was almost convinced that she’d dreamt the whole thing.

But she knew that couldn’t be.

Truth be told, she hadn’t seen or much less thought about Gon or Killua for years. Four years to be precise. How were they? Were they still in one piece? Worry and guilt jabbed at her conscious the more she thought. Surely Ging wouldn’t show himself for nothing . . .

The bejeweled cell phone in the pocket of her fluffy pink dress went off at exactly the wrong time, nearly startling her out of her chair. She answered an unknown number, for what reason she couldn’t say.

“Hello?”

The deep, dark voice of a man replied formally. “Is this Biscuit Krueger?”

On top of sounding threatening, this stranger knew who she was and how to contact her. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to assume he knew where she lived as well. She swallowed and said “Yes.”

“You taught my son four years ago. Is that correct?”

“Killua?” Bisky squeaked a bit, not able to control her voice as her mind reeled.

“Yes. I am his father, Silva Zoldyck. Are you a parent, Ms. Krueger?”

“No.”

“I have a feeling that something significant will happen to Killua, Ms. Krueger. I do not know what it is, but I am unable to be there for him. I will be in your debt if you can watch over him for me. Please teach him how to overcome whatever he is going through.”

“. . . Yes, of course Mr. Zoldyck.” Bisky’s voice became smaller the more she talked with Silva. Or maybe his voice was just so much bigger than hers. She wasn’t able to tell. Silva hung up after Bisky spoke, leaving her in more of a mess than she ever expected to be in.

Ging Freecss and Silva Zoldyck contacting her in the same day, asking her to look after their sons . . . Maybe she really was dreaming. Her hands shook in the slightest as they clutched her phone to her chest. The metal and plastic of the device were still warm from resting against her cheek.

She heard the voices of the two men, still ringing in her ears in the deafening quiet. The two requests couldn’t have been directly connected, but somehow Bisky knew it was an omen. Something big was about to happen, and she was lucky enough to gain insight into it. Opening her phone again, she found Gon’s name in her contacts. She hoped the number was still the same as she dialed it, waiting to hear it ring.

* * *

 

Killua was exhausted, for lack of a better term.

Gon had gotten a call from Bisky, of all people, saying she wanted to train him and Killua once more. Of course after four years of no contact, Gon was excited to see their old Nen master again and wanted to leave right away to meet their teacher in Yorknew City. But there was one minor detail the black-haired boy forgot to mention . . .

“Bisky isn’t going to meet us here for another month?” Killua grumbled, unwilling to believe he’d let Gon sucker him into two consecutive red-eye flights, complete with a three-hour layover in the middle,  that left him incapable of sleeping. In the airport, they made their way through crowds of other miserable-looking people that just arrived from their own overnight flights. Killua felt compassion for those people; he probably wasn’t going to sleep for at least another day or so after this mess.

“She said she could get here earlier. I wanted to be sure.” Gon reasoned, looking as bright and cheerful as ever.

Killua shoved his free hand in his pants pocket and tightened the other around the handle of a rolling suitcase. “Can we please just take flights at reasonable hours from now on?”

Gon chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Ok. Sorry for dragging you out here like this. I just got excited.”

Killua fought a blush when Gon looked him in the eye so honestly. He had to look away before his friend spied any color in his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. You’re so embarrassing. Let’s just find a hotel before it gets any earlier.”

* * *

 

It was seven in the morning when Gon and Killua checked into a hotel. They had barely gotten their bags in the door when Killua heard a resounding thump in the middle of the room. Turning around, he nearly rolled his eyes at what he saw. Gon had passed out on the floor, his whole six feet of height awkwardly sprawled between the two beds.

Easily taking his friend into his arms despite their height difference, Killua meant to simply lay him down on one of the beds. But a warm fascination that squirmed in his chest stopped him. He held Gon bridal style and just stared at his sleeping face, knowing what was coming over him and was unsure of how to stop it. His sensitive nose picked up Gon’s familiar scent, and it was comforting and safe as always.

Killua was filled with the desire to kiss his best friend as his heart hammered against his rib cage. He also felt an all-too-familiar tightening in his pants as he continued to think in such a way.

This was dangerous. Gon could wake up and see something he shouldn’t, or by some miracle read Killua’s mind. Killua laid Gon on one bed and he sat on the other, facing away from Gon and trying to will his erection down.

Ever since they’d beaten Greed Island so long ago, Killua found that he felt a certain way towards his friend; a way that extended beyond friendship. For Killua, getting used this fact took months. He should not feel this way for a boy, he would reprimand himself. His heart should flutter this way around a girl, not his male best friend. He should want to feel this way towards girls: he should want to hold their hands and ask them on dates; he should want to tell them they’re beautiful and kiss them on their rosy, pink lips. He should be hoping and praying for a chance to be intimate with a girl.

But he wasn’t. It was the exact opposite for Killua.

He’d tested himself many times throughout the course of a year, by gaining access to the pornographic channels in the hotels he and Gon would stay in while the latter was asleep. He would valiantly try to focus on the women in those videos; staring at their hips and breasts and trying to feel something. But he would lose his concentration when the male actor began to undress, and the muscles of his chest along with his hardened penis were exposed. Killua remembered how he would frantically turn off the video every time he felt a stirring in his groin from staring at the men. He would spend the hours afterward sitting alone in the dark and berating himself for what he felt.

It wasn’t until after the Chimera Ant Invasion, when Killua traveled the world with his precious little sister Alluka, that he really started learning to accept himself. He knew he’d always admired her, but he couldn’t name why until right then: even though her biology was different, she wasn’t afraid to be who she really was. She was the kindest, happiest person Killua had ever known.

He was so proud of Alluka for staying true to herself, despite how she was expected to live. And in a sense, he strove to be like her.

What was wrong with wanting to love someone? At least Killua had given up killing, and wanted to live a life where he didn’t have to do that to get by. And he’d always said that the less information the rest of his family had on him, the better. So he decided that his sexual preference was none of their damn business, or anyone else’s for that matter.

But even still, he imagined professing his feelings for Gon. He toyed with the idea often, but he never dared to act on it. They had six years of friendship and trust between them. What would happen if Killua just went and destroyed it all with a few simple words? He couldn’t bear to think of losing Gon just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

But sometimes, it was hard. There were times when Killua felt like he couldn’t control himself. He desperately wanted to show Gon how much he cared about him. To kiss him, touch him, and possibly go farther . . .

Killua yanked on a handful of silver hair when he realized his thoughts weren’t helping his current problem at all. His cock was almost achingly hard, and Gon was sleeping right behind him. Able to wake up at any second.

Feeling the slightest bit of shame, Killua quickly disappeared behind the bathroom door connected to their hotel room.

* * *

 

Why he let Gon drag him through all kinds of ridiculous situations, Killua couldn’t say. Maybe he let his feelings get the better of him. But for some reason, they were in a huge shopping district in the heart of Yorknew.

The place had changed since they’d last seen it. It had grown by a few miles in every direction, with new buildings and attractions being added every day. And Killua caught wind that the organized crime activity and mafia influence had never been higher . . . That might have something to do with the city suddenly having enough money to expand whenever it wanted.

“I wonder how Kurapika is doing . . .” Gon sighed as they sat down on opposite ends of a small café table. It did seem more than appropriate to think of their Kuruta friend while in such a city. “Should I try calling him?”

“We don’t even know where he is right now. He could be in the middle of finding the Scarlet Eyes and we might interrupt.” Killua admitted, although mentioning the blond made him wonder, too. They hadn’t talked with Kurapika or even Leorio in such a long time. Almost as long as it had been since they’d seen Bisky. Four years, maybe?

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. How about a text then?” Gon suggested, taking his phone out and beginning to text the Kuruta.

Killua rolled his eyes, knowing Gon was sending the message with or without his opinion. “Sure.” He answered flatly, dragging a straw through a chocolate milkshake he’d ordered on a whim. Killua wasn’t all that hungry in the first place, and the idea of chocolate was always appealing. But he couldn’t even bring himself to take a sip of the melting dessert. His mind was far too preoccupied.

When he was twelve and far too headstrong, Killua had always imagined himself growing up into an unstoppable warrior: a man that didn’t need anyone and was without limitations or boundaries; someone much like his father, except without a family holding him back. And yet, when he met Gon, emotions and spiritual well-being were thrown into the mix. Sure, being strong and able to do whatever he wanted were great goals for a prepubescent boy who knew nothing, but having Gon by his side cemented Killua’s growing concerns that maybe power and authority weren’t all there was to desire from life.

Killua had always assumed that his initial attachment to Gon was due to how different he was. That he was fascinated by how Gon lived for happiness and simple pleasures; and the boy chased after his father because he wanted to, not because he felt some kind of obligation to. Killua’s life had always been dictated by what his family expected of him, and when he gained Gon as his first friend, he realized that his whole life up until that point was being lived for his family; he’d never made a single decision for himself. And Killua’s musings about there being more to life finally set in. He broke away from his controlling family and had never been happier for it.

Well, up until now, that was.

Killua was eighteen now. Two years away from being twenty. His life was technically about a fourth of the way over. And he’d still never had his first kiss, or even been on a date with anyone; he was still a virgin, for fuck’s sake. And to top it all off, he often thought about doing all of those things with the young man who sat right across from him.

Oh, who was he kidding? They’d been friends for so long, were they capable of anything more? . . . Could Gon even love another guy? It would be such a big risk to take; to confess feelings without even knowing if a relationship was possible. And what if their friendship fell apart, all because of Killua’s selfish desires?

“Hey, Killua . . . Are you feeling ok?” the question made Killua quickly look up.

He averted his eyes from Gon’s inquisitive gaze. “I’m fine. Just thinking of Kurapika and Leorio. I’m wondering how they’re doing, too.”

“I already told you Kurapika lives here.” Gon said with a raised, incredulous eyebrow. “I just said he answered my text. Are you sure you’re ok?”

Killua leaned back nonchalantly in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “Yeah, I just need more sleep. I’ll be fine.”

“I told him where we are. He’s actually out running errands across the street from here. I told him we can meet up with him now.” Gon stopped, his gaze switching from Killua to the cup of untouched chocolate liquid sweating on the table. “I mean, if that’s ok. You look kind of sick.”

Killua shook his head. “No, I’m feeling ok. Why would I miss an opportunity to see one of our best friends again?”

Gon thought for a bit, but then smiled in agreement. “Well, ok! I’ll tell him we’re leaving then.”

They walked almost two blocks, navigating through swarms of people before spotting the back of a familiar blond head outside a clothing store. Killua had half a mind to think he’d found the wrong person, but the signature of the Kuruta’s aura and a glimpse of ruby earrings contradicted that thought.

Killua had immediately noticed that Kurapika was not in his usual tribal outfit. He was dressed . . . normally: in tailored jeans and a light blue button-down, with the sleeves rolled up to just above his elbows. The outfit accentuated the blond’s delicate-looking frame; the one Killua knew he had but always smothered with heavy Kuruta vests and skirts. The button-down was especially flattering in all the right places; outlining a firm, slender torso . . . unbuttoned just enough to show the soft-looking skin of Kurapika’s neck and collarbone . . . Wait, what?

Killua shook his head, initially shocked at himself. Where did _that_ thought come from?

“Ok, are you sure you’re not sick? You look like you have a fever.” Gon’s voice startled Killua to say the least.

“I’m fine! Stop worrying.” Killua grumbled.

“If you say so . . .” Gon muttered unconvincingly as Killua continued forward.

Killua had heard time could change people, but he’d never really believed that until now. Apart from changing his general appearance, Kurapika seemed spiritually happier. His aura was lighter and less weighed down; less angry and vengeful . . . He was so much more complete than when they’d all last seen each other.

He must be close to collecting all of his peoples’ eyes, came a sudden thought in Killua’s head.

It wasn’t long before the Kuruta turned and saw them, sending a small wave and a smile their way. Killua’s heart raced the closer he and Gon got. The moment Kurapika had turned around, Killua nearly lost all sense. Seeing his face and that brilliant smile . . .

 _“Ok, he’s attractive. I get it.”_ Killua mentally growled at himself.

Had Kurapika always been that way? Did Killua just need to develop a sex drive in order to see it, or had it happened recently? He wasn’t sure, but he felt more uncomfortable the closer he and Gon got. It was comparable to the times Gon would get flustered around a cute girl . . .

Killua’s heart suddenly sank at that thought.

When he looked back up, he saw Kurapika staring at Gon, his hazel eyes filled with a tense apprehension and shame. Now that Killua thought about it, Kurapika was the only friend of theirs that didn’t show up at the hospital when Gon had been fighting for his life four years ago. Killua was willing to bet that the blond was worried about it.

“Gon . . .” Kurapika started, until the aforementioned raised a hand.

“It’s ok, really.” Gon replied with an understanding smile. Before Kurapika could look relieved, Gon pulled him into a hug.

Killua looked down at Kurapika as the blond and Gon separated. Something akin to anger was smoldering in his chest at the sight of the two touching like that. He couldn’t name the strange feeling that blazed through him, but he couldn’t let onto what he was feeling.

“You two haven’t changed a bit.” Kurapika said warmly as he smiled at his two younger friends.

“We tower over you. How can you say there was no change?” Killua playfully teased.

It was true that Kurapika had retained his original height of 5’7. But instead of taking any kind of offense to Killua’s comment, he instead placed his hands on his hips with a knowing grin. “You’re still the same boys I remember, regardless of how much of an advantage you think you have over me.”

Curiosity overtaking Killua, he began to sense the strength of Kurapika’s Nen. He wasn’t all that surprised to feel immense power within the blond’s smaller body. It was almost like Gon’s in terms of force, but it was strong and silent: patient and calculating in all the ways that Gon wasn’t. After spending so much time surrounded by a loud, headstrong and impulsive aura, it was an exotic, refreshing change for Killua.

Killua felt his mouth curl into a smirk as he eyed Kurapika predatorily. The atmosphere between them became suddenly playful, and he didn’t miss a beat as he replied, “I’ve always had the advantage. I’m much faster than you. I could pin you to the ground right now if I wanted.”

Kurapika shot a sly look right back, lowering his eyelids and leaning in to impishly retort “Oh, I’m so scared.” He seemed to purr, the sound of his voice low and teasing.

Killua scoffed and leaned in closer as well. “You should be.”

“Who says you’d even be doing the pinning?” Kurapika said with a challenging roll of his hazel eyes. “I’d chain you up before you felt it.” An odd feeling passed through Killua’s spine when those highly suggestive words left the blond’s lips . . .

Suddenly, a rather loud cough from Gon’s direction caused reality to kick in.

Killua blinked wordlessly at Kurapika, who looked as dumbfounded as he felt. They simultaneously realized their faces were a bit too close for comfort, and they backed away as if their proximity burned. Gon had turned away with a puzzled expression and Kurapika hastily followed, muttering something like “It’s good to see you again, Killua” as he walked away. Killua followed as well, more than aware of a peculiar look that Gon shot him from over his shoulder. Blinking again, Killua tugged lightly on a few strands of hair in confusion.

What just happened?

The rest of the day was relatively normal. Gon, Killua, and Kurapika easily talked and laughed together, and there were moments where it felt like they’d never been separated. Gon exchanged stories of his and Killua’s latest conquests, and Kurapika revealed that he only had three more pairs of Scarlet Eyes to find before he had them all. What he would do with them once he got them, he wouldn’t say. But it did leave the others to wonder.

Killua was glad to just spend time with Gon and Kurapika. He enjoyed the company of his friends without worrying about any further feelings or weird situations. Their pleasant evening almost made him forget about what he felt for Gon . . . almost.

But regardless of how much Killua wanted things to be simple again, his feelings were only getting worse. He was reaching an impasse and had no idea how to deal with it . . . Then, a sudden thought occurred to him: Kurapika had to be at least twenty, right? Killua figured he had to know something about having feelings for someone.

Killua and Kurapika followed Gon into an antique music store. He made a beeline for the vinyl records in the back, saying something about possibly buying one for his Aunt Mito, which gave Killua enough space to talk. “Hey, Kurapika?”

“Yes?” the Kuruta answered while idly picking through a clearance rack of CD’s.

Killua swallowed before he continued. “What would you do if you . . . liked someone?” He looked down and hid his hands in his pockets.

Kurapika nearly dropped a CD case as he turned to face Killua. Killua was slightly taken aback by how uncharacteristically clumsy that was of him. But as he quickly steadied the plastic in his grip, Kurapika reasoned, “Well, if it were me, I would tell them how I feel. It’s better to be honest than to keep secrets.”

“I can’t just do that. It couldn’t possibly be that easy . . .” Killua’s eyes were glued to the floor as he leaned against a shelf behind him.

Kurapika shook his head gently. “You can’t leave it bottled up, Killua. If you don’t tell them, those feelings will eat at you.”

Killua made an unsatisfied noise in the back of his throat before saying, “Have you even had feelings for someone?”

Kurapika quickly looked away, as if he were purposefully avoiding Killua’s eyes. “Not really.”

Killua had never felt more unconvinced in his life as he crossed his arms and pinned Kurapika with a flat look. “You’re twenty-something. How have you not had feelings or anything?”

The blond’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he kept his gaze preoccupied on an obscure CD. “I’m twenty-three. And I’m still searching for my people’s eyes. Do you really think I’d want to involve a partner of mine in something like that? It’s just not a good idea.”

Killua tilted his head curiously as he parroted, “Partner?”

Kurapika’s eyes widened and a guilty look crossed his features. His eyes darted away nervously as a thin hand came up to fidget with a ruby earring. “. . . That’s not what I meant.”

The oddest feeling blossomed in Killua’s chest as he analyzed his friend’s words. He didn’t want to assume, but that reaction was unmistakable . . . Trying his best to look his friend in the eye, Killua bent down a tiny bit and asked, “Kurapika . . . are you gay?” He stared openly at the blond, not sure if he was surprised or not that their conversation had come to this. Kurapika’s silence spoke volumes as he continued to look away. Killua numbly registered that what happened between them earlier was not just a weird conversation: they had been flirting with each other.

But at the present, Killua was suddenly met with a glare. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I’m not dumb. You said partner; not girlfriend.” Killua defended.

“This conversation is supposed to be about you.” Kurapika’s cheeks puffed in the slightest as he got more irritated, and Killua distantly thought it was one of the cutest things he’d ever seen.

Knowing Kurapika’s change in topic was an obvious diversion, Killua couldn’t help but blurt out. “I knew it!”

Kurapika gritted his teeth, finally getting angry as he clenched his fists and hissed, “Keep your voice down or you’ll wish you had.”

Killua leveled Kurapika with a firm look. “It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

The Kuruta searched Killua’s gaze, and in that moment Killua realized that Kurapika must have recognized his expression. And not disclosing the gender of who he liked must have had something to do with it as well. “Are you . . . also?”

Killua tried not to look away, masking his nervousness as he asserted, “What of it?”

An indescribable silence settled between the two young men. It was funny how a few years could change things.

Kurapika looked away. He held his arms in front of his body in apprehension. “You won’t tell anyone about me, will you?”

“Cross my heart, baby.” Killua grinned, but his eyes quickly widened at his own words. He felt his face heat up as he tugged on his hair. “Oh my god . . . Forget I said that.”

Kurapika laughed, not offended at all and seeming even more at ease then before. “Don’t worry about it . . . Now, what about this person that you like?” They walked slowly through an isle of old cassette tapes and boom boxes as Kurapika gave Killua his full attention.

“Hey, wait a minute. You can’t just tell me you’re gay and then try to change the subject. Again.” Killua pouted, his curiosity once again getting the better of him. “How did you figure it out? How old were you? . . . Did you sleep with anyone?”

Watching Kurapika blush and ungracefully choke on his own tongue was a more than amusing sight. After Kurapika straightened himself out, he shot Killua a hard look. “That last one is none of your business. But I was eleven when I figured it out . . . Could we continue this in a more private place?”

“Gon’s all the way across the store talking the clerk’s ears off. And there’s no one else here to listen. Just keep going.” Killua shrugged.

With a sigh, Kurapika continued with a hushed voice. “There’s not much to say about it . . . a male friend of mine kissed me, and that was that.”

Killua’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You’re not allowed to just stop there! What happened??”

“It was complicated, Killua. I’d rather not discuss it at length.” Kurapika suddenly gained a far-off look in his eyes as he seemed to hold himself, his arms folded across his body.

Killua felt the air around them become heavier as he quietly asked, “He was one of your people, wasn’t he?”

“ . . . Yes. And regardless of what happened between us, he was still a dear friend of mine. I still miss him so much.” Kurapika tucked even farther into himself, slouching against a shelf of cassette tapes.

“Sorry for bringing all this up. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Killua apologized, not able to take Kurapika looking so sad. “I’ll tell you mine if you want.”

A while later, when Killua had finished recounting his tale, Kurapika perked up considerably. “You seem like the type to do something like that.” He said with a small, amused smile.

“What? Berate and lie to myself for years?” Killua asked, slightly annoyed.

“No. You just always struck me as the type to watch porn.”

Killua tried unsuccessfully to fight off a deep red blush while he stared at his shoes. “Don’t tell me you never have.”

Kurapika looked unabashed as he easily answered, “I’d rather read it than watch.”

“Oh, so you do the trashy romance novels? Figured as much.” Killua grinned toothily at Kurapika’s slight glare.

Kurapika eventually relented with a shrug. “Well, some are better than others. But you still never told me about who you like. You’re not getting out of it now.”

“Well, I really, really like . . . him.” Killua admitted, feeling an unknown weight lift off his chest at using the correct pronoun for the first time. “But I’m worried I might ruin the friendship we have.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow, looking a bit shocked and yet expectant as he asked. “Are you talking about Gon?”

Crimson covered Killua’s features. Just as he was about answer, the boy in question appeared behind them. “Hey guys! You’re so quiet, I thought you left for a second there.”

Killua bristled in surprise at Gon’s sudden appearance. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he groused, “Don’t just sneak up on people like that!” Gon laughed and turned away, leading the group back out into the city streets.

 _Is it him?_ Kurapika’s eyes seemed to ask.

Yet another blush was his answer.


	2. Chapter 2

As if some higher power was listening, Gon had set aside a training day for himself to prepare for Bisky’s return; which left Killua to his own devices. Immediately, he planned a visit to Kurapika’s apartment. It was the perfect chance to have a more private conversation concerning his current problem.

Was it odd that he had only spent less than three days in Yorknew, and here Killua was seeking out Kurapika for relationship advice? Shouldn’t he be preparing for Bisky as well? Of course, he would try; but the more time he spent around Gon, the more desperate and confused he became.

Being trained as an assassin, Killua was able to compartmentalize his life. It was always second nature. But with the way things were building up now, he was barely capable of separating business and personal feelings. Even though he had held onto those feelings for five years without a word, now it all seemed to be accumulating at an alarming rate. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep quiet.

Now that Killua knew Kurapika was like him, it gave him hope. He had someone that knew what it was like to be different in such a way. He could connect with Kurapika and gain some insight; possibly learn the best way to tell Gon how he felt without scaring him away.

So now he sat at Kurapika’s small yet polished dining room table with a cup of herbal mint tea sitting before him on an ivory place mat. Kurapika brought his own cup to the table and sat across from Killua, crossing his legs before saying, “I’ve never seen you look this worried before. Is Gon giving you trouble?”

Killua shook his head, unable to look Kurapika in the eye as he replied, “I’m just worried that I’ll screw things up between us.”

“Harboring these feeling for him is hurting you.” Kurapika admitted, picking up a delicate glass cup and blowing gently on the surface of the tea within. “You have to do something soon.”

“I know.” Killua tucked his hands between his knees shyly, looking past the table and down to the floor. “I just . . . I don’t even know if he likes guys. If he even could.”

Kurapika took a small sip from his cup before setting it down. “You have to accept the possibility of rejection, Killua. It’s a plausible consequence of confessing feelings for someone.”

“I’ve felt this way about him for years. I don’t know what I would do if I got shot down.” Killua apprehensively glanced at Kurapika’s stern look.

The Kuruta’s gaze softened at Killua’s all-too-obvious fear. “I know this is easier said than done. And I should admit, I wasn’t exactly honest before. I have been in a situation like this-”

“It was Leorio, wasn’t it?” Killua’s question came out more like a predictable statement than anything.

Kurapika chuckled slightly at the memory. He leaned back in his chair and cradled his cup in his hands again, looking reminiscent. “I quickly grew out of it. I was about eighteen when I told him. Of course, we both knew nothing was possible between us. Even if Leorio turned out to be gay by some miracle, it just wouldn’t have worked out. But once I said something, the feelings vanished . . . as if they were never there. And we got past it and remained friends.”

Killua was sure the solution to his own problem wasn’t going to be nearly as clean or easy. “Then, what should I do? Should I even tell him?”

“That’s up to you.” Kurapika answered. “Do what you feel is best.”

Killua couldn’t understand how the Kuruta made everything sound so simple. “I feel like I’m going to get rejected.”

Kurapika titled his head in the slightest. “Why? You haven’t even tried yet.”

“I think . . . I just don’t know.” Killua’s resolve wavered. He’d never encountered a problem like this before. Fighting, strategizing, and killing were things he could handle; things he understood. But venturing into the unknown territory of feelings and affection, and having the courage to admit them . . . Could he do this right? Could he even do this at all? Apprehension and fear grew within him; squirming in the pit of his stomach and making him feel sick.

“Stop thinking so hard.” Kurapika was starting to feel stressed himself the more he watched Killua mentally fall apart. He couldn’t help but reach across the table and lay a hand over Killua’s tensely interlocked fingers. “No matter what happens, Gon will not abandon you. He would never leave his best friend behind.”

Killua appreciated the warmth of Kurapika’s hand as it covered his own cold and clammy ones. He felt his nerves dissipate at the touch; he was reassured more by the physical contact than the blond’s words. His fingers loosened and he looked at Kurapika’s hand. His eyes then followed an outstretched arm to the Kuruta’s concerned face.

“I hate seeing you so miserable.” Kurapika murmured as their eyes met. “I wish there was something I could do to help . . .”

Killua appreciated the sincerity he felt from the blond as they continued to stare at each other. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. He felt safe and relieved that he had another friend he could still depend on after all these years of distance. Kurapika’s hand squeezed his before pulling away.

“Maybe roleplaying might help.” Kurapika suddenly suggested.

Killua, who had been attempting to take the first sip of his now-cooling tea, almost spit it out at the implications of such a word. “What do you . . . mean by that?” he managed to cough out.

Kurapika laughed at his friend’s red face. He teased him with a grin, saying, “Where is your mind, Killua? I mean I’ll pretend to be Gon and you practice your confession on me.”

“You’d have to get a bit taller to do that.” Killua snickered, which earned him a playful glare.

“Well, either that or I could just pull out a collar with a bell and some cat ears, since you’re so interested.” Kurapika couldn’t keep a straight face at Killua’s deepening blush. He chuckled, pressing the back of his hand lightly to his lips before saying, “Sorry. It’s a little too easy to tease you.”

Killua tucked a fist under his chin as he leaned on the table and looked away. “Oh shut up.”

Kurapika relented, folding his hands in front of himself but still smirking. “I’m still here if you want to experiment.”

“Stop talking like that, it’s embarrassing!” Killua shouted as he tried to will his blush away.

Kurapika allowed himself one more chuckle. “Ok, I’m really done this time. Sorry.”

“No, it’s ok.” Killua said resolutely. “I need to get used to these kinds of things. I mean . . . being physically involved with other guys.”

Kurapika shook his head in disagreement. “Your personal life is no one’s business but your own. You can deal with those things when you’re ready. No one’s pushing you; and if anyone tries to they’re not worth your time.”

Killua studied Kurapika, looking him in the eye for a moment before saying. “You’re right. No one can push me. But I can decide when I’m ready.” He swallowed before continuing. “And I think I’m ready to tell him.”

Kurapika gazed at Killua in concern. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I have to do something.” Killua said, his chair scraping the floor as he stood. “If I don’t tell him soon, I feel like things will just get worse.”

“I understand.” Kurapika replied, standing as well and beginning to gather the forgotten cups on the table. “Do what you feel is right. And good luck.” He added with a smile.

Killua returned the simple gesture. “Thanks.”

The younger man left Kurapika’s apartment, feeling more confident in himself than he had in a long time.

* * *

 

  
“Hey, Gon-”

“What was that regenerating technique Bisky showed us once?”

“I don’t know. But Gon, I-”

“You have to remember! The one with Ren?”

“It was so many years ago, I honestly can’t say I do. But I have something important to tell you-”

“Maybe it didn’t use Ren . . . Ten? En?”

“Gon!”

The young man in question sighed, sending a scolding look in Killua’s direction. “What is it, Killua? I’m busy, and you should be too. We haven’t trained together once since we got here, and it’s been over a week!”

“I know that! That’s part of what I wanted to tell you! If you could just shut up for a minute, I have something I want to say.”

Though the slightest bit irritated, Gon stayed quiet and regarded his friend with an expectant expression.

Killua took a deep breath and looked Gon in the eye, sitting down next to his friend on one of the beds in their hotel room. Gon had already been sitting, and Killua figured they would both need to after what he was planning to tell him. He laced his fingers together under his chin, looking pensive when he finally spoke. “We’ve been friends for six years. That’s a long time, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Gon sounded slightly impatient as he answered. “What does that have to do with-?”

“Stop giving me a hard time and listen, damn it.” Killua snapped. After a tense moment of silence, he mumbled under his breath “This is a lot harder than I thought . . .”

Gon remained silent, despite looking like he wanted to make a smart remark about Killua’s stalling.

Killua ignored him and steeled himself, fighting nerves that made his stomach flip as he said, “I’ve always admired you, Gon. Your bravery and generosity; all the things you taught me about living . . . I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.” Killua smiled to himself, remembering all the happiness his years with Gon brought him. “But lately, those feelings changed. Well no, they didn’t change all that much . . . there were just a few new things added on. I mean, I still value you as a friend. But now, there’s more to it . . .”

“Killua.” Gon started. His tone held no bite as he scratched the back of his head. “You’re not making any sense.”

Killua sighed. He should have known a subtle approach would never work. Turning off his mind for that one moment, Killua was able to finally say the words he was afraid of. “I like you.”

Killua held his breath and watched as Gon’s large, expressive brown eyes softened. They held a naïve affection and slight confusion in them as the boy answered, “I- I like you too, Killua.”

Blinking at him in silence, Killua almost couldn’t believe Gon had entirely missed the point. More determined than ever to make him understand, Killua leaned toward his friend to confirm what he meant, “No, Gon . . . I mean, I really like you.”

Gon leaned away from Killua, still looking puzzled. “What do you mean?”

 “Let me show you.” Swallowing his growing anxiety, Killua had gently taken Gon’s hand and quickly closed the distance between them. He closed his eyes, tilted his head, and leaned forward without daring to breathe.

When their lips should have met, Killua felt Gon turn his face away.

“Um . . . What are you doing?” the questioning and uncomfortable tone Gon had in his voice made the bottom of Killua’s world plummet. Of all the directions he had expected this conversation to take, this wasn’t one of them. The room became suddenly colder and Killua felt himself start to shake. Not because of the cold, but because of the way Gon was looking at him.

He backed away to a more familiar distance and stood, fighting a desperate feeling of wanting to run. Almost mechanically, Killua’s constricting throat managed to get out the words, “I like you, Gon. I really, really like you.”

“Oh . . .” Gon faltered, averting his eyes, and the most awkward silence of Killua’s life fell between them.

“Gon . . . say something. Please.” It was getting harder for Killua to speak. His lungs and throat were painfully tight, and the backs of his eyes began to burn. Killua hadn’t cried in years, and he thought he’d never have to ever again. But here he was, on the verge of tears in front of his best friend. “Please . . . Anything. Just talk to me.”

The tears had come, streaming silently down Killua’s face as he waited. He prayed he wasn’t so disgusting that Gon could bear to look at him just one more time.

Killua stood and Gon sat, both looking in opposite directions for what felt like hours. Killua was grateful for a numbness that coursed through his veins; a numbness that told him everything would be ok, and that he didn’t just demolish his entire relationship with his best friend.

Despite this consolation, Killua knew. He was aware that things would never be the same again. That they would both be forced to either tear down or completely rebuild their friendship. Where would they go from here?

Killua found himself unwilling and incapable of answering.

Suddenly, Gon gave a small, tired sigh and barely uttered the words, “Killua . . . I don’t like you like that.”

* * *

 

The harsh reality of what happened crashed down on Killua the very next day when he woke and found that Gon was missing. He called his friend once, twice, three times in a row until he gave up and tossed his phone to the floor. He knew Gon wouldn’t call back.

Laying back down on the bed, Killua closed his eyes and thought about yesterday. It was all he could think about. Why did he pick that one moment to act so selfish? Not even sparing a thought to how Gon would think or feel?

_I don’t like you like that . . ._

Killua was an idiot. He was as stupid as they came, thinking his obviously straight best friend could ever . . . Killua curled into himself, remembering the look on Gon’s face; the disappointment, the uneasiness, the shame in his eyes. Why did Killua ever think his feelings held any kind of importance? He shouldn’t even have any in the first place . . .

What could life possibly be like without his best friend in it? Killua sat in silence and thought about that singular idea for endless hours. He’d have nothing except to return home and take charge of the family business, and then what? He’d assassinate people . . . commit murder for a living all over again . . . until he died.

Killua couldn’t keep track of the days anymore. They all blurred together into a long stretch of time he’d simply spent by himself. Time alone to think or deliberate isolation? He’d called it both at one point or another, but found in the end he didn’t care what it was. He didn’t care about much, nowadays.

He ignored his cell phone every time it went off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything remotely human, eating and sleeping included . . . Killua couldn’t decide if it was pathetic or truly troubling that he wasn’t reaching out to anyone for help. He’d surely die if he kept going on like this . . . but then that made Killua wonder: would it really be so much of a disadvantage to do so?

Killua had always been taught that having friends and emotions didn’t matter; and he would always fight back and tell Illumi he was wrong. That there had to be more to life than killing people and feeling nothing. But if Illumi could see him now . . . that bastard would be laughing in his face, he was sure of it.

_“Look at where having friends and feelings has gotten you, Killu. Was it everything you ever dreamed?”_

“Shut up.” Killua whispered at nothing. His older brother’s manipulating needle was taken out of his head years ago . . . Why was he hearing his voice now?

Maybe because in this instance, Illumi was right. Feelings only got you betrayed and hurt. But Killua had to contradict everything Illumi had told him, not even taking into account that the man might have been trying to protect him from feeling the way he was now . . .

There wasn’t a time in his life that Killua could say he felt so lost and broken.

Eventually during his thoughts, Killua would manipulate his nails into claws and stare at them. Sometimes he’d do it for hours, idly wondering how slicing his own neck would feel.

* * *

 

“Gon, calm down! I don’t know where he is.”

Kurapika had to hold his phone away from his ear (again) as Gon shouted, “He’s been missing for days, Kurapika!! He won’t answer my calls . . . I don’t know what else to do!!! He might not even be in the city anymore! What if he went back to his family again?!”

“I highly doubt that. Gon, losing your composure isn’t helping anyone. What even happened between you to make him leave?”

For the first time during the phone call, the line went silent. Kurapika began to fear the worst. “Gon . . . You didn’t.”

The voice that answered was weak and evasive. “Wha- . . . what is that supposed to mean?”

“Killua told me about what he feels for you. And when I last saw him, he told me he was going to tell you how he felt. You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

Gon choked on his words, fumbling for a moment before explaining, “I . . . I didn’t think he’d say those things to me. You know how good he is at hiding stuff! I didn’t know how to react!”

“Even so, I know Killua wouldn’t just abandon you because you two couldn’t agree on something. There’s more to this that you’re not telling me.”

“There’s nothing else to tell! I didn’t know what to do, ok? It was weird for me, that’s all.”

“I thought we were talking about Killua.” Kurapika said, becoming suddenly angry at Gon’s self-centric behavior. “Isn’t he the one that’s in pain and missing?”

“He was acting like someone I had never met before, Kurapika. He tried to . . . _kiss_ me! I wasn’t sure how to take it.”

Kurapika felt his mood getting darker by the second. “Why is that such a terrible thing?”

“What?”

“Him showing you how much he loves you. Why is that so wrong?”

“I don’t feel the same way! You know that.”

“There you go again, always thinking about yourself. All Killua did was think of you. He was so worried about how you’d react and about how much you’d hate him for the way he felt. And you know . . . He wasn’t too far off the mark.”

Gon sputtered for a moment before retorting. “I don’t hate him! I just . . . The time we’re wasting arguing is probably taking Killua one step closer to suicide, if he hasn’t already done it!”

Kurapika conceded to that point. His teeth clicked as he closed his mouth and opened it again. “You’re right. We can meet up and look for him now. Where is better for you?”

“I’m already close to your apartment. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Gon hung up before Kurapika could. Sighing, the blond set his phone down on his kitchen counter, feeling like punching a hole in something. Killua could be dead for all they knew. “How could you let this happen?” he growled as his eyes continued to burn scarlet.

They had been for a while now. Ever since Gon said Killua had went missing . . .

The former was knocking on Kurapika’s door faster than he expected. Gon closed the front door behind him and instantly shied away from bright crimson eyes. It was then that Kurapika noticed the younger man was completely soaked; it had been raining that entire night, and Gon must not have bothered with any adequate clothing or even an umbrella. Not that he would be amenable to such things in the state he was anyway. “I found an alley with Killua’s scent in it. If we hurry, we should be able to follow the trail before the rain washes it away.”

“Let’s go, then.” Kurapika said, swiping his apartment keys from the counter and pocketing them.

Gon suddenly frowned, rolling his eyes while blocking the front door. “You’re not leaving like that. Go put your contacts in.”

All too aware of the heat in his irises, Kurapika replied, “I don’t care about that, at this point. You’ve done enough damage.”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me.” Gon snapped, shoving his hands into the pockets of his damp green jacket and averting his eyes. “You’re in the heart of mafia black market territory, dumbass. I don’t need both of your deaths on my hands. Just go put your fucking contacts in before I do it for you.”

Only a minute or two later, a charcoal-eyed Kurapika followed Gon out into the rain to search for their friend. Tightening the jacket he’d brought around himself, Kurapika could already feel the biting wind and rain beginning to chill him.

“The scent’s still here.” Gon said as they came to the dark alley he spoke of before. It wasn’t unlike the other unsavory nooks of Yorknew, complete with rotting garbage and hissing feral cats. Taking a deep breath, Gon sighed, “He went up the side of the building . . . and the trail stops there.”

“Maybe we can pick it back up if we follow what we’ve got.” Checking first for any signs that someone might see them, both young men scaled the ashen brick walls and reached the top of an office building with ease. If the wind had been bad in the city streets, it was worse without any man-made structures to slow it down. The rain was also coming down harder, pelting Gon and Kurapika as the former took deep breaths of wet air through his sensitive nose.

Kurapika tried to ignore the rain that rolled off his hair and down the back of his wet jacket as he called out over the rain, “Is there anything?”

With his eyes still closed, Gon’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. “I’m not sure. He didn’t try to cover his tracks or anything. Damn it . . . The trail really does stop here.”

“How can there be nothing?” Kurapika growled under his breath. His hands clenched into fists, and suddenly the rain didn’t bother him much anymore. “Keep trying.”

“I can’t. There’s nothing to follow.”

“Do you feel betrayed?”

“What?”

“Do you feel betrayed because Killua never told you he was gay?”

“What the hell are you getting at?”

“You thought you knew him. Now he seems like a completely different person from the one you knew. For years, he lied to you. I’m sure you feel betrayed.”

“Knock it off, Kurapika. I swear I’ll kick your ass if I have to.”

“As if you could.” Kurapika cocked his head, locking gazes with his friend. His scarlet eyes nearly shone out from beneath his contacts.

“Don’t push me.” Gon’s brown eyes narrowed as he slowly spoke, grinding the words out from between his teeth. “Ever since we got here he was blowing me off for you, anyway. Maybe he wanted you, too.”

“There’s an idea. I would be better for him.” Kurapika stood straighter, his eyes never once leaving Gon’s.

Gon’s expression turned disbelieving as well as angry. “Don’t fuck around, Kurapika! What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

For years, Kurapika had wondered just how he would come out to his closest friends. What kind of careful planning and thought it would take . . . “Nothing.”

Kurapika was tackled and wrestled to the wet rooftop by Gon’s immense strength. He knew he could have avoided it; he had always been faster than the black-haired boy. But he allowed Gon to gain the upper hand, staring up at him as the boy straddled his waist and held him by the collar of his jacket.

“You started this. Now finish it.” Gon growled, his eyes boring into Kurapika’s as the deafening sound of pouring rain echoed in their ears. “What have you been doing with Killua?”

“What?” For the first time that night, Kurapika’s eyes gained an emotion other than rage, widening in confusion.

Gon’s hands shook as they fisted Kurapika’s jacket. A long moment passed, where the rain dominated the silence and Gon bowed his head. “Have you been fucking him?”

Kurapika blinked, almost all of his anger disappearing. Immediately, he stifled a laugh, bringing a hand up to cover it.

“Do you think this is a game?!” Gon yelled, throwing Kurapika’s upper body back into the concrete rooftop of the building.

Kurapika allowed the impact to knock his hand away, and he continued to laugh as he laid on the cold stone. Though the sound was drowned out by the downpour, he laughed loudly until his throat was numb from the freezing air. “And I thought you asked stupid questions when you were younger . . .” Dragging himself up from the puddle his body had created, Kurapika lifted himself onto his elbows. His eyes blazed crimson though his contacts as he sneered, yelling over the storm, “Killua is in love with you! Do you really think he’d be sleeping with me on the side?!”

Lightening dazzled the sky, illuminating dark, looming storm clouds and reflecting in cascading raindrops. “How am I supposed to know? . . . I don’t know what you people do!”

Claps of thunder sounded as the storm descended, making the rain inaudible as they permeated the atmosphere. “We’re just like you! We have the same feelings . . . we fall in love . . . There is no difference!”

Lightning and thunder chased after each other and played in the ever-darkening sky. Gon had stopped looking at Kurapika a long while ago, his head hanging and his expression indecipherable. Kurapika still tried to get Gon to look at him, craning his neck to search the younger man’s face. “You think Killua’s different now, but that’s just it . . . he isn’t!”

Lightning struck the earth again in a blinding flash, but it was too distant to be heard. It only danced jaggedly against the clouds, giving Kurapika enough light to see that Gon had met his gaze.

“I’ll keep looking for Killua on my own.” The young man said, rising from the concrete and facing away from his friend. “It was a mistake to bring you along.”

“Maybe it was.” Kurapika mused as he stood. “What will he say when he realizes what you think of him?”

“I don’t have time for this.” Without sparing a backward glance, Gon bounded between rooftops and disappeared before Kurapika could blink.

In the moments he spent by himself in the rain, Kurapika realized how cold he really was. His breath was no longer visible as he clutched his soaked jacket around himself. Uncontrollably shivering, he forced himself to return to his apartment. What good would he be to Killua if he ended up getting himself sick?


	3. Chapter 3

Kurapika had spent two tense, uneventful days waiting and hoping for signs that Killua was alive and well. Calling Killua’s cell phone over and over again, only to be sent to voicemail.

Needless to say, he was shocked and yet relieved when he came home one night to find Killua huddled catatonically in a corner of his living room. He immediately ran to the younger man and embraced him, turning his head into Killua’s neck as he sighed in relief. “I was so worried about you.”

Killua was unresponsive, his body stiff and cold in the Kuruta’s arms. As if he didn’t know Kurapika was there holding him. “You’re freezing. I’ll get you a blanket.”

Kurapika left and had returned in seconds with a heavy comforter, hoping it was enough to keep his friend warm. He draped it over Killua’s shoulders and tucked it around him, feeling more anxious the more he registered that he’d never seen Killua so still before. He wasn’t even blinking. Kurapika placed a hand on his chest to feel for breathing and a heartbeat.

“Oh, thank the gods.” The Kuruta breathed when he found both, going slow and steady inside Killua’s rib cage. Even through clothing, Kurapika could feel that Killua’s skin was like ice. Kurapika began fearing for his health as he asked, “How long have you been like this?”

No reply or any signs that showed Killua even heard him. Kurapika’s eyebrows knitted together in worry. “I’ll be back.”

Kurapika returned once again with a hot compress wrapped in a towel. Sitting in front of Killua, he gently applied the compress to the younger man’s face, pressing it to one cheek for a few minutes, then the other. Then his neck and down under his shirt to his chest, watching the pale skin gain a pink tint as he went.

Deciding that Killua was warming up enough without his help, Kurapika left him to brew tea for the both of them. The same herbal-mint blend he’d used before didn’t seem like the smartest choice for now; he didn’t want to stir up any unwanted memories. So he went with a neutral chai, adding milk and sugar once it had steeped enough.

Killua looked much more alive when Kurapika came back with two mugs, setting his own aside and tending to Killua first.

Killua was taking deeper, almost audible breaths now, but he remained as motionless as Kurapika feared. The Kuruta raised himself up on his knees, careful to blow on the tea’s surface before lifting the mug to Killua’s lips. The tea touched Killua’s upper lip, wetting it slightly. Once, twice, three times. But still, there was no reaction. Kurapika set the mug down after a while, feeling helpless and alone regardless of Killua’s physical presence. “Killua . . . what happened to you?”

Kurapika stared into glassy blue eyes that couldn’t see anything. Anyone else would think Killua was dead. Kurapika sighed quietly, his gaze switching from Killua’s eyes to his lips, particularly the light layer of tea that coated their top half.

There was never a more inappropriate moment to want to kiss someone.

Kurapika blamed it on all the books of fairy tales he read as child; in this instance he distinctly recalled a tale of a princess kissing a frog, and the frog turned into a prince, his curse having been broken. Maybe the optimistic child inside Kurapika wanted to kiss Killua in hopes that he would wake up . . .

Kurapika scoffed, shaking his head at himself as he turned away from Killua to sit on the end of a nearby sofa. Almost on impulse, he took out his cell phone and stared at it, debating with himself.

He’d technically found Killua. Should he call Gon?

His immediate answer to this was no. Killua was in no state to have Gon breaking down Kurapika’s door and demanding to speak with him. Kurapika needed to protect Killua from any of Gon’s brash, uncoordinated attempts of reconciliation He needed a few days to recover, without Gon’s interference. At least until Killua was rested and ready to face him again. So no, Gon was not allowed to know about Killua until Killua was ready.

An unnecessarily loud thump shook Kurapika from his thoughts. He looked in Killua’s direction to find him lying on the floor in an ungraceful heap with his eyes closed. Although Kurapika was worried at first that Killua had officially become unconscious, a deep breath from him indicated that he had finally exhausted himself. Kurapika brought his friend a pillow and toyed with the idea of moving him to the sofa; he would definitely be more comfortable that way.

It hadn’t been all that hard to lift Killua. At least, not as hard as Kurapika had imagined. He was physically strong in his own right, he supposed. Not as strong as Killua or Gon, but he got by. Satisfied with how Killua was situated on the sofa, Kurapika began to reach for the blanket on the floor until he heard a small noise.

Killua gave the slightest of whimpers from the back of his throat as he slept, obviously missing the warmth of the comforter. In that moment, Kurapika stole a selfish glance at Killua’s body, his eyes traveling over defined shoulders, a powerful chest and down his torso to . . . Kurapika’s mouth went dry and his eyes widened as he saw an erection clearly straining against Killua’s jeans.

Kurapika rushed to cover his friend with the comforter, blushing furiously as he thought, _“Killua is definitely not a kid any more . . .”_ Of course, all healthy men got several erections a night while they slept; it was perfectly normal. What wasn’t so ordinary was the size of this one in particular . . . Kurapika blushed even more deeply, his thoughts taking a very forbidden path. His irises burned in a familiar way and an uncomfortable tightness formed in his pants.

“No, no, no!” Kurapika scolded himself under his breath, trying to force the thoughts away. “You’re not allowed to do this . . . You’re friends. You can’t do this to him, not after everything he’s been through.”

The fantasies kept persisting . . . Kissing Killua’s lips, licking his way down the younger man’s neck to his chest, taking that monstrous cock into his mouth and tasting the heated flesh . . .

Kurapika finally closed his eyes and shut his mind down, refusing to entertain any further ideas. How selfish could he be, desiring Killua at a time like this? He needed to be there for him and help him, not covet him like some prize to be won.

But if the circumstances were different, maybe . . .

Still, Kurapika silently reprimanded himself once more and sat on the floor next to Killua, threading a hand through his hair in thought. Now was not the time to feel so conflicted. Killua came first, and that was exactly what Kurapika intended to focus on. He tucked his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he listened to Killua’s slow, deep breaths.

The light from the kitchen spilled out from the dividing wall between it and the living room, illuminating the apartment just enough for Kurapika to see, but not enough to disturb Killua. Kurapika thought about turning the light off for Killua’s sake just as a quiet gasp sounded behind him.

Jumping at the noise, Kurapika was turned around and kneeling at Killua’s side in record time. Killua shifted stiffly in his sleep, his downturned face twitching and his eyebrows drawing together. His breathing quickened, coming out in short, harsh pants and the softest of whimpers. Kurapika saw a cold sweat beginning to form on Killua’s forehead and instinctively reached out to stroke his hair.

Just as he remembered his mother doing to him when he was having nightmares.

Killua quieted when Kurapika touched him, although his mouth was still contorting, possibly trying to speak. What he wanted to say, Kurapika couldn’t tell. But the Kuruta continued to soothe Killua, running a hand through silver hair and gently down the flushed skin of the younger man’s face.

“You’re ok, Killua. I’m right here.” Kurapika murmured to him. “I’ll be here for you when you wake up.”

Killua seemed to respond, his face and body relaxing into a once again deep sleep. But before he went completely limp, Killua’s head turned toward Kurapika’s hand, his forehead pressing into its palm. Kurapika couldn’t help but smile in relief at such a sight.

Kurapika went to move his hand away, but Killua caught him by the wrist before he could. A simple reflex, Kurapika assumed when he saw the young man was still asleep. Chuckling under his breath, Kurapika took that hand into his, gently rubbing the slightly-dry skin with a thumb.

Yes, Killua was more grown up now, but he would always be a kid on the inside. Not that Kurapika could complain; he’d always found that part of Killua precious and endearing.

After all, Killua did have his childhood stolen from him. It was a miracle that he’d ever retained the ability to act like a child in the first place. Kurapika tightened his grip on the younger man’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a short kiss to its knuckles. Those hands were forced to kill so many people . . .

“I’m sorry, Killua.” Kurapika whispered, resting a cheek on the hand he held.

* * *

 

Killua woke feeling oddly warm and comfortable, something he hadn’t been accustomed to for almost a week now. He shielded his eyes with a forearm from the afternoon sun that poured in through the blinds of an adjacent window. He almost couldn’t believe he’d slept in so late. Pulling a rather thick blanket off of himself, he sat up and quickly realized he was on a sofa in Kurapika’s apartment.

He couldn’t recall how he ended up there; the last thing he remembered was that he wanted to see Kurapika, but the rest was a blur. Judging by how bundled in blankets and pillows he had been, Kurapika must have known he was here. The Kuruta was probably trying to take care of him.

Killua tugged at his hair sheepishly, hoping Kurapika didn’t take offense to his comatose state. He was normally able to come back from it on command, such as when he’d receive training and punishment through Milluki as a child. But he supposed this time his body hadn’t been sure when to “wake up”, having only dealt with physical pain, and never such potent emotional pain.

Since he was conscious now, the worst of what he felt was over. That much Killua was sure of. But now, he wasn’t entirely decided on what to do. He could keep running from his problems, or he could actually be a man and rise to face them . . . or he could just sneak out while he was still alone . . .

“Killua.” A surprised yet relieved voice breathed his name and Killua turned his head in its direction. Kurapika stood at the entrance to the living room, staring deep into Killua’s eyes despite being a good distance away.  He dropped a few bags he’d been carrying and rushed over, falling to his knees in front of the younger man and holding him close. The Kuruta leaned into Killua’s neck and sighed, “I was afraid you would never wake up.”

Killua’s heart rate tripled when Kurapika embraced him. He encircled the blond with his own arms and relished the feeling of being close to one of his childhood friends again. “How long was I out?”

Kurapika tipped his head up towards Killua’s ear, answering, “You’ve been sleeping for three days.”

Killua nearly shoved Kurapika away when the Kuruta’s warm breath hit his ear and sent a shiver down his spine. He caught himself just before he did, swiftly grabbing the blond just beneath his shoulders and holding him at arm’s length.

Kurapika blinked, looking confused and worried. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Killua accidentally shouted before he could stop it. “Wait, I mean . . . No. I just . . . I must’ve caused you so much trouble.”

Kurapika’s gaze softened as he smiled. “I’m just glad you’re ok. Do you remember anything at all?”

“I remember wanting to see you, and that’s it.” Killua confessed as he released his friend. “I probably scared you, being so still and unresponsive like that. It’s a kind of defense mechanism for me, if that makes any sense. But this time I couldn’t wake up when I wanted to, like I usually do . . .”

“Don’t worry, Killua. It’s alright.” Kurapika stood and went back to pick up the bags he’d dropped. Carrying them to the dining room, he continued, “You’re welcome to stay here until you’re ready to see Gon again.”

Ice flooded Killua’s veins at the mention of their friend. He bowed his head and looked away, wringing his hands as he muttered, “I’m not ready to see him.”

“I understand.” Kurapika conceded, starting to organize the contents of the bags into a black case as he spoke. “You don’t need to worry about him finding you here. I haven’t told him a thing.”

“But he hasn’t seen or heard from me for well over a week. He’s probably worried-”

“He is, but what about you? You need time to recover from what he’s done and that’s that.” Kurapika spoke tersely, taking Killua aback with his clipped tone.

Killua stood on slightly shaky legs and met Kurapika in the dining room, crossing his arms as he countered, “Well, I wasn’t exactly innocent in all this. I basically tried to sexually assault him thinking he’d be into it.”

Still not looking at Killua, Kurapika shook his head. “Gon of all people should be able to understand that you would never hurt him or take advantage of him. You were only trying to show him how you feel.”

“I still feel like I should have done things differently . . .” Killua came closer, happening to peer over Kurapika’s shoulder in the process. “What the hell do you need atracurium, warfarin, and morphine for?” he asked with a raised brow.

Clicking the organized case of medical syringes shut, Kurapika turned around and leaned against the table. “I don’t. My current client however, does.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve become some kind of drug dealer while I was gone.” Killua teased with a grin.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m more concerned about you.” Kurapika seemed to carefully search Killua’s eyes with his own. “How are you feeling?”

Upon being asked such a question, Killua felt a horrible pressure in his bladder. He had almost forgotten that he’d basically been unconscious and unable to take care of himself for days on end. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“At the end of the-” Killua headed for the last door in the hallway as soon as possible, hoping he guessed right.

Much to his relief, he had. After a few minutes, Kurapika’s voice filtered through the locked door. “You can take a shower if you’d like. There are towels in the cabinet.”

Considering how long it had been since Killua felt clean, a shower sounded wonderful. “That would be awesome.” He called.

“It’s the least I can do for you.” Kurapika replied before Killua heard him walk away.

Hot water and soap were officially the greatest things Killua had ever experienced in his young life. He made sure to scrub every part of himself twice, grateful to get the stale, sticky aftermath of not bathing in over a week off of him. Of course, he’d had many stake-out missions where he had to be more worried about enemies hearing him breathe rather than how clean he was. But it was always good to be clean once he was done.

After washing his body, Killua tended to his hair using the only shampoo that was available; a small, curvy pink bottle whose contents smelled like orchids. It might seem out of place in any other single male’s apartment, but where Kurapika was concerned, Killua wasn’t surprised.

Lifting the open bottle closer to his face, Killua took another deep breath. So that was what he’d smelled on the blond when they’d hugged before . . . It was a fresh, exotic scent; very fitting for such a beautiful young man.

“Will you stop that? _Nothing_ is going to come from this. Nothing.” Killua grumbled to himself, unable to believe he was still attracted to Kurapika, even after the mess he’d gotten himself into with Gon. In fact, now that Gon was out of the picture, it was becoming apparent that maybe Killua was even more attracted to Kurapika than he was before . . .

“Absolutely not.” Capping the orchid-scented shampoo, he opted to use the unscented body wash he’d picked up earlier.

Satisfied with himself, Killua turned off the shower and reached for a towel, starting to dry himself as a thought dawned on him: he had no other change of clothes.

Killua rolled his eyes at himself. Great; he was stuck in a towel with no way out. And he’d be damned if he was putting on those dirty clothes he’d moped around in for over a week. Sighing out a deep breath, Killua pushed the bathroom door open in the slightest and called, “Kurapika?”

No answer. Peering out down the hall to the dining room and kitchen, he didn’t see anyone.

He groaned under his breath. Killua’s stomach fluttered nervously at the thought of Kurapika catching him in nothing but a thin towel. He called for his friend again, this time a bit louder.

Still quiet. He waited for a few more minutes, hoping Kurapika would answer soon. When the apartment remained silent, Killua sighed in resignation.

He had no choice but to find the blond himself. Although Kurapika was only 5’7, perhaps he had clothes Killua could borrow for the time being. Steeling himself, Killua opened the door and didn’t take more than three steps out before locking gazes with shocked hazel eyes.

Kurapika looked as red and embarrassed as Killua felt. His eyes looked Killua over only once before his cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson and he looked away. “Iknewyoudidn’thaveanyclothessohere . . . I hope they fit . . . Sorry.” Kurapika thrust said clothes into Killua’s arms and disappeared behind the door he originally came out of; Killua could only assume it led to his bedroom.

Killua retreated back to the bathroom, feeling more confused than ever. Why did they keep having such awkward moments around each other?

Well, for starters they were both gay. It must have been like a straight man walking in on a woman in nothing but a towel; making it uncomfortable and embarrassing for both parties. Or at least, that was the only reasoning Killua could come up with. But why did Kurapika react so strangely? It had been very disorienting to see the blond so out of character. Usually he was cool and collected, knowing how to handle himself in any situation.

Maybe if Killua turned the tables? He tried picturing walking in on Kurapika in such a state. Nearly naked with a towel hanging low around his waist . . . all that creamy skin on display . . . probably still wet and dripping from the shower . . . His silky, orchid-scented blond hair gleaming as he blushed-

“Ok, what the hell?” Killua demanded of himself as he glared at a full erection that tented the towel in his lap. Groaning in exasperation, he buried his hands in his hair and tugged on the silver strands. “This isn’t happening . . . Why me?”

As soon as he willed himself flaccid, Killua began dressing in the clothes Kurapika had the courtesy to bring him: a pair of dark blue cotton pants and a simple gray t-shirt, complete with boxers and socks. Everything was soft and comfortable, despite the pants being a little loose and the shirt a bit tight. Killua could live with it for now, he supposed. He really had to find a way to repay Kurapika for everything he’d done-

Killua froze as he touched the doorknob, unable to make himself open the door. His insides squirmed and protested the thought of seeing Kurapika again after what happened. Should he apologize? Should he just pretend nothing happened? Would Kurapika do the same? Scrubbing at his slightly damp hair, Killua leaned his back against the door and tried to ignore the growing migraine in his temples. First Gon and now this . . . Would his problems ever be over?

Killua had to coax himself into reentering the rest of the apartment. It had been a long and slow process, but he was rewarded by the smell of food drifting through the air. It reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in over a week. Thankful for the distraction, he walked into the kitchen to see Kurapika wearing a plain white apron, adding chopped vegetables to a pan of chicken and fried rice.

 _“Ever since I came to this god-forsaken city, I’ve been unexplainably attracted to you. And to top it all off, I just got a raging boner from thinking about your naked body. I hope we can still be friends.”_ Cramming that awful thought into the farthest corner of his mind, Killua leaned on the side of the kitchen counter and said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for everything you’re doing for me, Kurapika.”

Kurapika had jumped in surprise at first, and then looked over his shoulder with a genuine smile. “You’re so quiet, I didn’t hear you come in. But you don’t have to thank me, Killua. We’re friends. Friends help each other.”

So they were going to forget the shower-thing . . .

“I know, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to repay you.” Killua answered, glad to get his mind off its previous track. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Kurapika put the handle of a wooden spoon to his chin in thought. “I’d rather you sit and rest, to be honest. I don’t have much left to do and you shouldn’t be pushing yourself to do anything.”

“I could do the dishes for you.” Killua slyly offered.

“Alright.” Kurapika said after a moment of thought. “But only after you’ve eaten.”

Killua laughed under his breath while playfully rolling his eyes. “Yes, mother.”

“Sit.” Kurapika motioned to a dining room chair with his spoon before returning to the stove.

Obediently taking a seat, Killua continued to watch Kurapika. He refused to let his thoughts wander to how fetching the blond looked in an apron . . . especially with that cute bow in the back perched right above his ass . . . _“Damn it.”_ Killua almost slammed his head down on the table in front of him.

Was this some kind of disease? Was Killua just so unfortunate that he was attracted to all his male friends? Although, he found he couldn’t take even thinking about a shirtless Leorio, so maybe that wasn’t it . . . What about all his male acquaintances? He would admit a few of them were attractive for some reason or another, but for the most part he found himself uninterested in all of them.

It had only been Gon for a very long time . . . But now, it was Kurapika, too.

A loud growl from his stomach interrupted Killua’s thoughts, and he blushed as he heard Kurapika’s quiet chuckle. The Kuruta set two full plates of fried rice on the table and then took off his apron to join Killua. Refusing to give any more thought to that damnable apron, Killua focused on the male across from him. “I promise I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

Shaking his head, Kurapika said, “That’s very generous of you, but I know you would do the same for me. You don’t need to feel like you owe me anything.”

“I feel like you at least deserve an explanation of what happened. You shouldn’t have been dragged into this in the first place, and now you’re stuck in the middle of our issues . . .”

Kurapika tucked his hands beneath his chin. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to pry.”

Trying to calm his pounding heart, Killua inhaled deeply before he spoke. “Thinking back on it, I most likely surprised him. He really didn’t see it coming . . . I don’t know if I should be worried or proud of the fact that I hid it so well for so long. But I guess I just . . .”

“Became old enough to be sexually attracted to him?” How Kurapika could say that so honestly with such a straight face was beyond Killua . . .

He colored immediately and avoided looking Kurapika in the eye. “How are you able to talk like that and be so serious?”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? As long as Gon was by your side, you were happy for a time because of your romantic feelings for him. But as you got older, those feelings naturally gained a sexual aspect and-”

“Ok!” Killua interrupted, throwing his palms up in surrender. “I know you mean well, but . . . can we move on? Please?”

“Oh, sorry.” Kurapika gingerly tucked his hair behind one ear, giving Killua a bashful smile.

Resolutely ignoring the spike in his heart rate from witnessing such an adorable sight, Killua continued. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Gon is straight, and I should have respected that. He was always attracted to girls . . . And I knew. But I was being so selfish . . .”

Kurapika gave an unsatisfied “hmm” as he picked up his chopsticks and balanced a pile of rice between the tips. “You’ve always said things like that; you’re selfish and undeserving and all this other nonsense that just isn’t true. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you, Killua. You’ve always done right by everyone else. Why not try that for yourself once in a while?”

“Do you remember where I came from? What I used to do? To hundreds, maybe even thousands of people?” Killua’s eyes narrowed at the table the more he thought. “I still have a lot of making up to do . . .”

“You were a child, only doing what you were told by the people you thought you could trust. What else could you have done but follow orders?”

Lacing his hands together, Killua stared down at them in regret. “Look, I shouldn’t have brought my family into this.”

Kurapika leaned forward in his chair, setting down his chopsticks to fold his own hands on the table in front of him. With an expression that bordered on disgust, the blond turned his head and said, “But everything always goes back to them, doesn’t it? They’ve caused you so much pain. They still do . . . It almost makes me wish-”

“It’s ok, Kurapika.” Killua reassured. “I wouldn’t want my life to be any other way. I wouldn’t have met you or Gon and Leorio. I wouldn’t have become a Hunter. I wouldn’t be who I am today if it weren’t for where I came from. In a strange sort of way, I’m . . . grateful.”

It took a moment for Kurapika to respond, but his features softened as he gave the smallest frown. “You’re so forgiving to everyone except yourself.”

“I don’t deserve forgiveness yet. Instead of killing people, I’m fucking up everything around me. I’ll lose Gon for good if I’m not careful.”

“If he does leave, that’s on him. You are not to blame for his reaction.” Kurapika huffed, looking more and more irritated as the conversation drew on. “And as for everything else: people make mistakes; we have flaws. It’s what makes us human.”

Killua’s stomach did an odd little flip at Kurapika’s last word. He couldn’t look at the blond as he muttered, “I think you’re the first person that’s ever called me that.”

“Because you are, Killua.” Killua could hear desperation in Kurapika’s voice. “Look at me. Please.”

Forcing himself to meet the blond’s eyes, Killua was startled by the countless emotions he saw within them. His pulse began to race as his throat went dry; Kurapika was so undeniably beautiful . . . there was no other word for it. He was held captive by the blond’s unblinking, pleading gaze. And for a moment, Killua almost felt like redemption was closer than he’d imagined. As if it had always been hidden in those stunning hazel eyes . . .

“We should probably eat. The food’s getting cold.” Kurapika’s rushed words brought Killua back to reality with a jolt.

“Oh, right.” He agreed under his breath as they both picked up their chopsticks and avoided looking at each other. In his peripherals, Killua almost thought he saw a pink tint to Kurapika’s face.

He might have been imagining things.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> I do want to include a few notes. As some of you have probably noticed, the rating went up. There is some explicit content ahead. And this story will be updated every tuesday. Thank you so much for your continued support :)

Killua had officially spent six days hiding from Gon in Kurapika’s apartment. He had been unconscious for three of those, but that was beside the point. Watching another sunset disappear behind the horizon, he huffed as the golden glow that warmed the living room began to fade. He needed to come out of hiding soon . . .

He spent most of his time trying to think about where he would go from here; and there was no easy or painless way to do it. Maybe he and Gon could completely reconcile and go back to the way they were before . . . Or maybe any attempts at getting close again would crash and burn. If there was anything Killua hated, it was not knowing what he was up against and not knowing how to plan for it. The only way he could go about this was to try to talk to Gon again. But the last time he’d tried talking to Gon, things didn’t go at all like he’d expected . . .

And Killua also had this instinctual feeling he was overstaying his welcome. Not that Kurapika said or showed that he minded Killua staying in his apartment; he always said the exact opposite. But whenever Killua interacted with Kurapika, he found they touched each other more, be it a simple brush of hands or a reassuring hug. Now that Killua thought about it, they had been hugging a lot throughout the course of only three days . . . Was that weird? Killua wanted to say “no”, but he knew anyone else that wasn’t him would give a resounding “yes”.

Killua also caught himself saying strange things. He felt as if he was twelve years old again and trying to impress the blond. He often told him stories from the past four years they’d spent apart. And Killua may or may not have embellished those stories just a bit here and there, if only to make Kurapika smile, or to watch his eyes light up . . . and the times he could make Kurapika laugh were so indescribably wonderful . . .

He stopped his thoughts there. Killua was definitely overstaying his welcome and needed to leave. If not for Kurapika’s sake, then for his own. Kurapika would surely understand; he would even encourage Killua to go out and do the right thing. It wasn’t even a question of-

The loud chime of his cell phone cut through the silence, startling Killua more than it should have. He swallowed thickly as he noticed the screen clearly read “Gon”.

Should he answer it? Should he leave it be? Every second the phone spent ringing built up Killua’s nerves to an almost breaking point.

Without any further thought, the phone was at his ear.

“Killua!!! Oh good, you finally answered! I thought you were dead . . . I’m so glad you’re ok . . . Killua?”

Killua froze and his throat constricted, rendering him unable to speak. He opened his mouth and then closed it uselessly. What could he say? A low, pitiful sound from the back of his throat was all he could force up.

“Killua . . . Please say something . . .”

Killua hated how hurt Gon suddenly sounded. And try as he might, he couldn’t make himself speak.

“If you need more time away from me, you can have it. And if you just don’t want to see me again, I understand . . . I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Killua. I hope you’re ok, wherever you are.” A few more seconds passed, as if Gon was holding out just a little longer in hopes of a last-minute response. When nothing came, he said, “You know how to reach me when or if you want to talk . . . Bye, Killua.”

Killua’s phone almost slipped from his hand as he stayed frozen in place. He hadn’t been ready to hear that voice again, not at all.

With only the slightest turn of his head, Killua saw Kurapika watching him with worried eyes. “Was it him?”

Still trying to find his voice, Killua nodded once. His eyes followed Kurapika as the blond came to his side. “He told me he was sorry.” He managed to get past his tight, dry throat.

“That’s good. That means you don’t have to worry anymore.” Kurapika encouraged, taking one of Killua’s hands into his. He didn’t smile, but there was hope in his eyes as he continued, “He still wants to be friends, Killua. That’s great news.”

“I want that, too . . . I just don’t know if I’m ready for him yet.” Killua quietly admitted, leaning into the blond slightly as their shoulders brushed.

Letting go of Killua’s hand, Kurapika embraced him, wrapping thin arms around his waist. Almost immediately, he rested his head on one side of Killua’s collarbone, an oddly common position for the two of them nowadays. Killua hardly minded Kurapika being so close to him anymore; he could even say he enjoyed the physical comfort the blond offered. “No one will push you. You’ll know when you’re ready.”

Killua held the blond in return, feeling a slender back beneath his hands. He breathed in the oddly calming scent of orchids from feather-soft blond hair. Kurapika’s hands rubbed soothing circles on Killua’s shoulder blades as it occurred to him that maybe they should stop being so close. With a turn of Kurapika’s head, a dangling earring tickled Killua’s neck. And suddenly, he found he could care less if they shouldn’t be hugging any more.

“. . . Killua?” came a tiny voice in his ear. Kurapika’s warm breath caused a shiver to shoot down Killua’s spine once again; but this time, Killua had expected and welcomed the sensation. He savored how warm and delicate-feeling the Kuruta in his arms was. Slowly, he ran his hands down Kurapika’s back, acutely aware of how the blond’s breathing quickened. Both their hearts thumped against the other’s chest as Kurapika very gently panted in Killua’s ear. He was most likely unaware that he was even doing so . . .

Did the blond’s arms just tighten around him? Killua responded in kind, holding Kurapika even closer. The Kuruta made a small noise in his throat, a contented sigh maybe . . . In that moment, it felt so unbelievably good just to be close to him. Killua found a small moment of bravery that allowed him to reach up and touch Kurapika’s hair, stroking the silky strands and tucking a few behind his ear. The movement seemed to startle the blond, and with a gasp he suddenly tried to pull away.

Killua caught him and brought him close once more, their faces tilted towards each other and merely a breath apart. No words were spoken as they stared at each other, each pair of eyes darting from each other’s gazes to their slightly parted lips. Kurapika had huge eyelashes, Killua thought idly. There were also shimmering flecks of gray in his deep hazel irises . . .

Killua couldn’t remember when things had gotten out of hand.

It had started with a press of lips, the simplest of kisses. That one kiss quickly escalated and turned into something neither of them could control. When Killua regained conscious thought, he was overly aware of Kurapika holding his face in his hands as their tongues fought for dominance. And somehow they managed to end up on the floor, Killua sitting with his back to a wall and Kurapika kneeling in front of him.

It was messy and desperate and everything Killua needed at that moment. Feeling Kurapika’s warm body and frantic heartbeat against his own was the most addicting thing Killua had ever experienced. He was breathless and his world was spinning by the time they pulled away from each other. The clean, slightly citrus taste of Kurapika’s mouth was still on Killua’s tongue.

That had been his first kiss, and it was nothing short of perfect.

After recovering himself, Kurapika shielded his mouth with a hand, his eyes wide with shock. “I shouldn’t have done that . . .” He scrambled to get off the floor, but Killua caught his sleeve before he could stand completely.

“Kurapika, wait.” The two exchanged conflicting stares, one shameful and full of regret, the other pleading and glazed over with desire. “Please.”

Without waiting for an answer, Killua yanked Kurapika back down to the floor and kissed him again, attacking his soft neck and collarbone with fervent lips.

“Killua . . . We shouldn’t-” Killua silenced the Kuruta with another open-mouthed kiss. Their mouths connected wetly again and again, gaining enough intensity that Killua forgot to breathe. Killua used a break for air to work on Kurapika’s shirt, quickly undoing buttons without caring to hear Kurapika’s weak verbal excuses. The way the blond was pushing himself into Killua’s lap was proof enough that he didn’t want to stop.

* * *

 

“Are- are you sure about this, Killua?” Kurapika had regained a bit of sense just as his shirtless back hit the mattress in the darkness of his bedroom.

Killua growled impatiently as he pressed kisses to the blond’s bare chest. “Just be quiet.”

“I don’t want you to go through with something you might regret later- _Ah_ . . .” Kurapika managed to get out as Killua left a well-developed bite mark on his neck.

“I can’t go back now.” Killua breathed ardently on the Kuruta’s ear, making him shiver.

“As . . . as long as you’re sure.” Kurapika panted as he tugged Killua’s shirt up and over his head. They quickly found each other’s lips again and Kurapika moaned as he felt his jeans being unzipped. He wasn’t sure if he was in any position to deny what they both wanted; especially when the sensation was becoming so overwhelming. It was ironic how much his mind raced at that moment. He could name all the infinite reasons why they shouldn’t do this . . .

And yet, here they were.

Once they undressed each other completely they fell back on the bed, Killua still on top of Kurapika. Killua’s dilated blue eyes seemed to purposefully look at a spot on the pillow above Kurapika’s left shoulder before they began kissing again. The words “Why won’t you look at me?” crawled impatiently on the blond’s tongue, but he refused to say them. He was afraid if they stopped now, things between them would never be the same.

A jolt of pleasure and alarm passed through Kurapika’s body as his hardened cock touched Killua’s. Who was he kidding? They were about to have sex; things would be different between them no matter how this night played out.

Kurapika wished he was able to see what was happening more clearly. The only light in the room was spilling in faintly from a street lamp outside his bedroom window. Most of Killua’s form was a silhouette in the darkness; and all Kurapika was really sure of was Killua kneeling in between his spread legs with his hands on either side of Kurapika’s shoulders. He could only really see Killua’s face if the younger man got close enough.

Their leaking erections brushed and rubbed together as Killua began rocking his hips into the Kuruta beneath him. Kurapika found himself thrusting back and crying out softly at every acute shock of ecstasy, but even still a hesitant thought bubbled in the back of his mind: how far were they really willing to go?

“Killua . . . Killua, wait.” Kurapika gripped the younger man’s forearms in an attempt to slow him down.

The most impatient growl Kurapika had ever heard rumbled deep in the back of Killua’s throat as the young man begrudgingly slowed his rhythm. “What _now_?”

Kurapika curled his hands around Killua’s wrists. He tried and failed to meet Killua’s gaze; it seemed more and more as though the younger male refused to look at him. “Where do you want to take this?”

“Does it have to have a direction?” Killua stopped moving altogether. Kurapika could practically hear him roll his eyes as he snapped, “I thought the point of doing things like this was to feel, not think.”

Kurapika felt a heated blush flood his features as he turned his face away. He quietly admitted, “I . . . know how to go all the way. I mean, if you want to.”

Killua got off of Kurapika and sat back on the bed, the shift in weight making the mattress squeak. He shook his head with a derisive “tch”. “I’m not an idiot. I know what to do, too . . . So, why not?”

Kurapika sighed silently to himself. Of course, Killua would pick the least attractive way to ask for sex. He propped himself up on his elbows and leaned towards the nightstand on his right, searching the top drawer for the small, inconspicuous bottle he knew was there. It was more than half-empty and it hadn’t been used in quite a while, he would admit. Hopefully it wasn’t too old. Before he could open the lid, Killua snatched the bottle out of his hand.

“I’ll do it.” Killua said in a rush.

The blond heard the lid pop open, but not before unsteady hands pressed on his inner thighs, urging them up and even farther apart than they were before. A sudden realization worked its way through Kurapika’s mind: Killua was asserting himself as the dominant role. Not that he personally minded; Kurapika was becoming increasingly more nervous at the thought of losing his virginity . . . to one of his best friends, no less. One of them had to be brave enough to take control.

“This stuff feels so gross.” Killua muttered as he coated the first three fingers of his right hand with lubricant. The wet, slick sound of it was strangely arousing to Kurapika, and he found himself fidgeting eagerly for things to continue.

“You’ll be more grateful for it later.” Kurapika reassured the younger male, who seemed to freeze after he tossed the bottle of lube to the other side of the bed. “Killua, what’s wrong?”

Killua cleared his throat, blurting out, “Nothing. I’m fine. I just-”

Kurapika took hold of Killua’s wrist before he could continue. He guided the hand in-between his parted legs and took a deep breath before pressing the fingers inside his body.

“Ah!” he cried out in shock and slight pain as two fingers entered him simultaneously. The feeling wasn’t much different from the times he’d done the same to himself, but the situation was worlds apart.

He had Killua Zoldyck’s fingers inside of him. It was a surreal thing to think about: the young man who trained as an elite assassin since birth; a prodigy and destined heir as head to an entire family of those like him. But when he was only twelve years old, he had the strength and courage to denounce everything he was taught by the people who raised him. Through sheer willpower, he changed his life and was happier for it.

That was, until his heart was very recently broken. Someone who grew up only knowing pain and death; someone who was slowly learning to love . . . had their fragile feelings crushed by the one they trusted the most.

And for reasoning that was beyond Kurapika’s comprehension, tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry . . .”

“Am I hurting you?” Killua began trying to pull his fingers out, most likely aware of Kurapika’s softening erection before any words were said.

“No, I’m fine.” Kurapika answered, catching Killua’s wrist before he could pull away completely. “Keep going. I promise I’ll be ok.”

“Well, alright . . .” Killua said, obviously unconvinced as Kurapika let go, and he slowly slid his fingers back in.

Kurapika whimpered as he forced his muscles to relax. He felt more pressure than anything else, at this point. But he could tell from feeling Killua’s cock against his own earlier that there would be more pain to come. He gasped and panted as he moved his hips back against Killua’s fingers, trying to help him find his prostate.

“Deeper.” The blond gripped the sheets beneath him as Killua inserted another finger and pushed all three in to the last knuckles. Momentary pain from being stretched further coursed up Kurapika’s spine, until the tip of Killua’s middle finger finally stroked what they’d been searching for.

Bursts of light exploded behind his eyelids as Kurapika cried out, the volume of the sound causing it to faintly echo around the room. Blood surged to his groin as his head hit the pillow, and Killua moved his fingers in and out in response. Kurapika moaned and shuddered, reveling in how much better this felt than doing it by himself. Almost all of his nerves had dissipated, but feeling a hand touch his erection made him jump in alarm and groan in pleasure at the same time.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” Killua had said jokingly as he pumped the leaking organ in his hand. Kurapika had never heard Killua’s voice get that deep before, and it turned him on more than he would ever admit.

Killua kept a steady rhythm with both hands, and Kurapika was lost in how intoxicating everything felt.  His hips couldn’t decide whether they should thrust into the hand above him or the one within him as lust clouded his judgment. “Please, Killua . . . I-I’m ready . . . Please . . .” he heard himself beg. His higher pitch was a stark contrast to Killua’s much deeper, huskier tone.

Was he really ready for what was coming next? Kurapika was not entirely sure. But he knew ultimately they should move on, or else he would finish early. As Killua’s fingers left him, Kurapika shivered again. This time it was out of pure nerves that had returned full-force. Fear filled him and he lifted himself up on his elbows, cursing how wet and hollow he felt on the inside and how useless his legs had become.

Killua had turned away to retrieve the bottle he tossed aside earlier, but when he turned back he froze in place as he looked Kurapika in the eye for the first time. Kurapika immediately used a hand to conceal his glowing scarlet irises, knowing what Killua was focusing on. Killua leaned in to remove the hand, gently whispering, “Don’t be ashamed.”

The younger male laid Kurapika back down on the bed, pressing kisses to his lips that soon turned much deeper. Their tongues danced messily, and a thin trail of saliva ran down Kurapika’s cheek as he enjoyed the cool, metallic taste of Killua’s mouth. He jumped as he felt a hot, pulsing erection leaking against his thigh. Though he was still afraid, Kurapika was finding less and less reasons to hold back.

The only things on the forefront of his mind now were how close Killua was and how hard his own heart was pounding. Kurapika parted his legs once more, and Killua used the rest of the bottle of lubricant on himself, spreading it on his cock and hissing in pleasure at the contact.

Kurapika had to remind himself to breathe as Killua positioned himself over him. “Are you ready?” the latter had asked.

Kurapika locked his arms around Killua’s neck and looked up at him with what he hoped was conviction. “I’m ready, Killua . . .”

The warm, smooth head of Killua’s cock made contact with Kurapika’s entrance, and was forced inside without much warning. Kurapika’s back arched as a pain he’d never felt before ricocheted up his spine. Unable to hold it in, he let out a horribly pained, broken scream and Killua stopped pushing instantly.

“Oh my god, are you ok?! Oh shit, I smell blood . . . Kurapika, please talk to me!” Killua called frantically, still halfway inside the blond and too scared to move.

The pain was on a level Kurapika never expected. It permeated every nerve in his body, starting at his core and then flaring out in unforgiving waves that nearly had him in tears. He gave a clipped whimper of hurt every time he exhaled for a few long moments, Killua still frozen in fear above him. When Kurapika was able to breathe normally, he wiped his watering, completely hazel eyes with the back of his hand and looked up at Killua. “It’s ok. I’m ok. It’s just that-”

“You’ve never done this before.” Killua finished, looking bewildered but still very worried.

“Keep going. Please.” As the pain waned enough for renewed arousal, Kurapika hooked his ankles together, effectively locking his legs around the younger man’s waist.

Fighting his own reappearing lust, Killua asked the Kuruta one last time, “You’re sure you’ll be ok?”

“Yes.”

And with Kurapika’s final word, Killua took much more care to be gentle, slowly burying himself farther within the blond. Kurapika tensed and inhaled deeply, focusing on relaxing his body as he was taken.

“You’re so goddamn tight . . .” Killua choked out once he was completely inside. His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration as his body violently shook. He was gradually losing control over himself; Kurapika could feel it in the way the cock inside his body pulsed.

Kurapika pleasantly shivered as Killua tightened his hold on his thighs. He no longer felt much pain; he only felt very full inside. Experimentally, Kurapika tried carefully gyrating his hips. The Kuruta cried out softly and continued moving, quickly becoming addicted to the odd yet still pleasurable sensation.

Still unsure if he should move, Killua remained as motionless as he could. Despite his intentions, his willpower seemed to be collapsing under the intense stimulation of Kurapika’s pulsating muscles. A single bead of sweat trailed from his hairline to his chin as he held himself back. “Does this mean you’re . . . ?”

“Yes!” Kurapika accidentally shouted as the head of Killua’s erection grazed his prostate for the first time. White-hot electricity coursed through him all the way to his fingertips and his body writhed, begging for more. “Please, Killua . . . Move!”

They were too overwhelmed by what they felt to think. They moved together roughly; in quick, harsh thrusts that stole their breath away. Kurapika felt hyperaware of everything around him; the rocking of the bed beneath them, their rapid, uneven breathing, even the way their skin sounded every time they slapped together. Killua consistently aimed for Kurapika’s prostate, lighting all his nerves on fire and making him scream. Kurapika ran his hands up and down Killua’s firm back, savoring the thin glaze of sweat on his pale skin. Killua seemed to purr at the touch and rewarded him by thrusting harder.

All too soon, Kurapika tightened around Killua exponentially, and his hand shot down to pump his dripping, neglected erection. A smoldering coil of heat wound itself deep within Kurapika’s abdomen, the delicious pressure building more and more until he just couldn’t take the ecstasy of it all. Burning scarlet eyes suddenly snapped open, and Kurapika screamed Killua’s name before he came in hard, thick spurts over both their stomachs.

It had only taken a few more frantic thrusts before Killua came with a satisfied growl. He coated Kurapika’s insides with his own release and instantly slumped over the blond’s body.

Kurapika heard Killua breathing harshly in the silence that followed. He clung to the Kuruta beneath him as lingering sensations surely wracked his body. Kurapika couldn’t help but embrace him in return, the same powerful afterglow making him shudder. He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he buried his face into Killua’s slightly damp collarbone. Deep affection coursed through Kurapika and mixed with the physical pleasure, causing him to softly call Killua’s name once more.

Killua turned his head to nuzzle Kurapika’s neck in response, the action endearing and cat-like. Kurapika returned the gesture, tightening his hold around the male above him. He wasn’t used to physical contact with other people at all, but sharing this intimate moment with someone he cared about so much, after what they had just done together . . . It was beyond anything he’d ever imagined.

All the things that had led up to this point felt so far away to Kurapika. Almost as if none of it mattered. As if it was only himself and Killua in the world, still catching their breaths together in a loving embrace. This was the first time Kurapika could say he felt truly connected to someone; he found himself wishing the moment would never end.

Through the thick, idle haze of satiation, Kurapika picked up on the sound of Killua’s breathless voice barely whispering.

In those whispers, Kurapika heard Gon’s name, chanted desperately over and over again.

Before he could feel anything, Kurapika was lost to the world as exhaustion overtook him.


	5. Chapter 5

Kurapika woke early the next morning, feeling sticky and rather miserable. It also didn’t help that he woke up alone, with no other detectable presence in his apartment.

_Gon . . . Gon . . ._

Remembering Killua breathing that name into his ear wrenched Kurapika’s heart in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Something in the core of his chest was tightening and threatened to break at the mere memory of what happened.

Kurapika knew Killua was only looking for comfort last night, and yet at the same time a voice in the back of his head selfishly declared _“This is your chance . . .”_ Taking advantage of the situation while the person you desire is sad and vulnerable from being previously rejected . . . What was that called? . . . Catching someone on the rebound.

And Kurapika thought theft and murder were all the lower he would sink in life.

Killua couldn’t be held responsible for initiating that first kiss between them. He was hurting and only looking for reassurance; something that Kurapika should have given him. He should have held Killua back; told him they shouldn’t take things any farther than that kiss, which had already taken everything way too far. But of course, it wasn’t the first time Kurapika had let his own selfish desires override what he really should have done. He knew that much from his past in Yorknew . . . Either way, it was much too late to regret his choices now, but he did wonder: what did this mean for their friendship?

Kurapika sighed and sat up as gently as he could, still upsetting his muscles despite his efforts. Hissing quietly at the unreasonable amount of pain in his lower back, Kurapika forced himself out of bed. Wincing as his feet touched the hardwood floor, his nose immediately wrinkled at the mess of clothes scattered all over it.

An odd pang struck his heart as he realized all the clothing was his.

Silently breathing the air, Kurapika recognized Killua’s scent, however faint it was. Why he felt the need to confirm that the younger male was in his bedroom last night was beyond him. He had more than enough physical proof . . . including a wetness that slid thickly from his backside and down his inner thighs.

Kurapika closed his eyes and outright grimaced, refusing to look down at himself. No matter how good it felt; sex, he decided, was disgusting. He tried his best to reach the bathroom without embarrassing himself further.

He immediately turned on the showerhead, mopping the thick liquid off his legs with a damp washcloth as he waited for warm water. The cloth came back with pink, blood-tinged semen. Kurapika couldn’t help but pull a face at such a sight.

Well, last night hadn’t been all bad. The beginning was as painful as Kurapika expected and then some, but there was an immense pleasure to it that he never saw coming. He couldn’t believe it was Killua that made him feel those things . . .

He could barely believe they’d slept together in the first place.

Kurapika was past feeling shameful. If he were really that ashamed of himself, he wouldn’t have dared to even touch Killua. On the contrary, last night had been more than exciting and he found himself thinking about doing it again very soon . . . Kurapika thought about the implications of such an idea and froze.

What did sleeping together really mean for them? Did it mean anything at all? What would Gon think? Would Killua eventually tell him? Kurapika felt a headache forming the more he found tougher and tougher questions that needed answering.

And worst of all, he was afraid to contact Killua. He knew he should; it was the right thing to do. But he couldn’t bring himself to. At least, not right away . . .

Kurapika had never been so grateful to be clean once he was finished with his shower. He was dressed in loose-fitting cotton pants and a simple t-shirt for the sake of his body. It wasn’t the most flattering outfit, but his lower half would not be able to tolerate jeans at the moment. He knew he could easily erase the pain with his healing abilities, but something within him didn’t want to do that just yet . . . He laid back down on his bed, opening his phone to see a text that had been sent to him in the middle of the night. From Killua.

_Call me when you wake up_

Kurapika’s heart jumped wildly in his throat. What did that mean? He raced to dial Killua’s number, his hands shaking only slightly in his haste. He held the phone to his ear in anticipation, hanging onto every ring before it was finally answered.

_“Hey.”_ Came a simple greeting.

“. . . Hey.” Kurapika replied, feelings butterflies invade his stomach the more the line stayed silent.

Killua gave a clipped sigh before finally speaking. _“Look, I don’t know if I should apologize or . . . I mean, after everything, I just kind of left . . . And I-”_

“Do you just want to forget about it? We can pretend nothing happened.” Kurapika found himself saying. He would rather not have it come to that, but if it kept their friendship intact, then maybe it was for the best . . .

Kurapika could sense Killua’s disagreement before he answered, _“Actually, I was thinking . . . Could we meet up again sometime?”_

Kurapika saw this coming. He had a feeling Killua might say those very words. But how to answer? “Killua, I don’t know . . .”

_“This is going to sound crazy, but I already want you again.”_ The slightest desperation in Killua’s voice made Kurapika want to give in at that very moment.

His heart raced as he thought. He wanted Killua . . . Oh, how he wanted him again . . . but remembering whose name he had subconsciously called out last night abruptly shattered that fantasy. “You’re not thinking clearly. We need to be more reasonable about this.”

_“Last night was amazing. I mean, it was good for you too, right?”_ Impatience was sneaking into Killua’s tone. Kurapika imagined Killua tugging on his silver hair in that moment with his brows knitted together. It was an endearing visual that he absolutely had to ignore. Had they been talking face to face, those brightly shining blue eyes would most likely be begging him for another night together . . .

Kurapika had to ignore Killua’s desperation. He had to. It was the right thing to do; it was the responsible thing. He had to rein in the situation. “Yes. But Killua-”

_“It’ll stay between us and no one else will know, I swear.”_ Truthfully, Kurapika’s mouth watered at the thought of actually getting to see Killua’s naked body in the light. All those well-defined muscles under smooth, porcelain skin . . . Getting to see the strong arms he’d gripped and the broad shoulders he clung to as Killua drove himself deep inside-

_That’s enough, Kurapika. Control yourself._

Was he forgetting what was at stake here? Killua was still broken; he wouldn’t be able to make a healthy decision about his intimate life, at least not right now. No matter how much Kurapika craved Killua, the risk of more damage was just too great. He had to derail the subject. “For how long?”

_“What?”_ Uncertainty crossed Killua’s voice and Kurapika continued.

“How long will we manage to keep this from Gon and Leorio?”

It was getting rather easy for Kurapika to tell when Killua was rolling his eyes. There was almost always a sigh or a throaty noise of disapproval attached to it. _“Leorio isn’t even here, first of all-”_

“He will be.” Kurapika quipped, slowly taking away Killua’s space to argue. “He’s coming to Yorknew next weekend and staying for at least a few weeks.”

_“Are you serious?”_

 “So I ask again: How long do you expect to keep this from them?”

_“It’s just sex, Kurapika. We’re not dating. What we do is none of their business.”_

“But it _is_ their business. If things go badly between us, it could sever all our friendships.” Kurapika tried purposefully backing the younger male into a corner by pulling his trump card.

_“Once again, you’re missing the point: we’ll only be sleeping together and nothing else. If it stays that way, no one knows and no one gets hurt.”_ Killua was oddly determined, much more than he would have ever been had he been a few years younger. He wasn’t backing down no matter what Kurapika said to deter him. It could only be a byproduct of spending so much time with Gon.

And Kurapika was running out of barriers to throw up; to stop last night from happening again very soon . . .

He was more than grateful for a muffled beep that signaled another incoming call. With a quick glance at the small screen that displayed the name “Senritsu”, Kurapika told Killua he would call him back before answering.

_“Kurapika, where is the package?”_ Came a soft yet worried female voice.

“What package?”

_“The package for our client; you were supposed to turn it in last night. Where is it?”_

Kurapika’s eyes widened as he suddenly remembered the black case of medical syringes still sitting on his kitchen counter. How very unprofessional of him . . . “No, I have everything. It just took a bit longer to procure than I imagined.”

_“You’re never late like this . . . Did something happen?”_

“No.” Kurapika said, a little too forcibly.

Senritsu’s unconvinced silence resonated in his ears before she replied. _“Well, our client isn’t very happy with you. You need to do something about it.”_

“I know. I’ll make it worth the wait.” Kurapika assured before Senritsu hung up.

Now Kurapika had two unavoidable problems on his hands . . .

* * *

 

An odd feeling settled itself thickly in Killua’s throat as Kurapika hung up on him.

“O-ok.” He muttered more to himself than anything. Scrubbing at his hair with a fidgeting hand, Killua leaned back against the large window of his and Gon’s hotel room.

Yes, he’d come back and found himself willing to try to rekindle his friendship with Gon. He was still nervous about facing the young man again, and was actually grateful to come back to an empty room. It gave him time to think about what he would say and to collect his bearings before they saw each other again. It was still rather early in the morning, and Gon was probably out training. They only had about a week and a half until Bisky arrived in the city anyway, so that would make sense . . .

How was Kurapika able to give Killua so much courage? He would have still been moping if it hadn’t been for the blond’s reassurance and support. Killua still needed to find a way to repay him for everything he’d done. Sweet, kind, understanding Kurapika . . . who also happened to be incredible in bed.

Killua had never seen Kurapika’s eyes _glow_ that way before. The way he moaned and panted, curving his back into a delicate arc that Killua felt with his own body . . . The way he’d screamed Killua’s name in the height of their passion . . .

In retrospect, Killua found himself thinking of two people that night. Was that wrong? Throughout his all-consuming sexual attraction for Kurapika, Gon was always in the back of his mind. The combination of thinking of Gon and feeling Kurapika had done him in, making him finish much earlier than he’d wanted to. He had been hoping they would’ve lasted longer . . .

Maybe next time they could draw it out, and milk the unbelievable sensations for all they were worth. Killua shivered and his heart rate doubled at the thought of taking Kurapika again. But why was the blond being so stubborn today, when he’d been desperately begging for it not even twelve hours ago?

Killua made himself sit in one of the chairs in the room, taking a moment to clear his mind. He had to deal with Gon first, then figure out Kurapika later.

_One step at a time, Killua . . ._

* * *

 

Down two blocks, make a left, and three buildings over to the right.

Those were the directions Kurapika followed to an inconspicuous alleyway at around three AM that night. Senritsu had already been there waiting for him, her small cloaked form leaning discreetly against a concrete wall, among old cardboard boxes and black bags of trash.

Kurapika casually took his place next to her and set the small black case gently on the ground between them. He slipped his hands deep into the pockets of his dark leather jacket as he and Senritsu waited in silence. He was glad he’d healed his body with his Holy Chain before he left; they ended up standing in the darkness longer than he’d expected.

Senritsu’s wide eyes eventually started studying him, Kurapika noticed in his peripherals. They darted up and down his figure before a tiny whisper said, “When did you start doing that?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” Kurapika sighed without looking back.

Senritsu stopped staring, tucking back into her own coat as she explained, “Out of all the years I’ve worked with you, I’ve never seen you do that.” She gestured to Kurapika’s pocketed hands with a nod of her head. “First you’re late for a job, and now this. Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Kurapika brushed her off, trying to hide the initial shock he’d felt towards himself. He had no idea he’d even done such a thing in front of Senritsu in the first place. Removing his hands from his jacket, he thought about the only person he knew who had such a habit . . . Kurapika nearly groaned out loud as realization dawned on him.

They’d only slept together once, and here Kurapika was subconsciously imitating Killua. It went without saying that absolutely no one could find out about what they’d done together, and that meant covering all traces of the act having ever occurred. Kurapika didn’t even want to fathom what the aftermath of their friendships would be if Gon or Leorio caught wind of it. Looking for a way to occupy his now free hands, Kurapika bent down to pick the black case back up.

“Kurapika!” Senritsu suddenly exclaimed in a hushed, yet reprimanding tone: almost as if she were a mother scolding her child.

“What?” Kurapika snapped, feeling his irritation mount as he stood back up with the case.

“Is that a . . . a _hickey_?” Senritsu blinked in disbelief, her petit mouth in a perfect “O” of shock around her rabbit-like front teeth. “What were you _doing_ yesterday?”

“It’s none of your business.” Kurapika answered curtly, cursing himself for not remembering to heal the obvious red and purple bite mark on his neck. Pulling the collar of his jacket up to hide it, he softened his tone of voice before continuing, “I have the materials required of us and then some, to apologize for my mistake. That’s all you need to know.”

Senritsu looked away in a rush, and guilt weakly prodded at Kurapika’s insides. He turned his head to glance at her. Her face was a bright pink in the darkness as she continued to avert her eyes.

“I won’t let anything interfere with our jobs again. You have my word.”

The small woman stayed quiet, and Kurapika figured it was best to simply leave her be.

He’d started working this angle of the Yorknew mafia almost four years ago; starting with the fall of Light Nostrade and the rise of his daughter Neon. Kurapika been respectfully discharged by Neon after her father’s death; which she never blamed on him, oddly enough. Kurapika had been expecting at least a small grudge from the girl, considering he had been the head of the Nostrade bodyguards at the time. That position, however, had been relinquished to Senritsu soon after Kurapika’s discharge.

_“You don’t belong here, Kurapika.”_ Neon had admitted as she studied him from behind her father’s desk. The young girl Kurapika had once baby-sat was hardly recognizable now that Light was gone. Taking her father’s place had changed her, making her seem so much older than sixteen . . . _“I always thought you never belonged in our world . . .”_

Kurapika was never really sure what to make of that statement. But regardless, he and Neon remained on symbiotic terms even to this day; he could even be considered an unofficial advisor to her.

With his connections to the new head of the Nostrade family and others like her, Kurapika was able to obtain just about any kind of drug, rare item, or illegal weapon imaginable. In the black market, demand was steady and there were always people willing to pay any price for what they wanted. Regardless of his success in the industry, Kurapika had a feeling his friends would be better off not knowing this part of his life . . . And it was bad enough he’d been careless with the contents of his case around Killua.

Kurapika could say he’d evolved into more of a Contract Hunter than anything else. It certainly made it easier to obtain his people’s eyes, as it turned out a vast majority of them were being circulated through the black market. It was nearly unbelievable that Kurapika had thirty-three pairs of Scarlet Eyes hidden away and safe. Only three more left to go before-

“Is everything alright, Kurapika?” Senritsu spoke up, interrupting Kurapika’s darkening thoughts.

“I . . . don’t know.” Kurapika answered honestly. He shifted the black case in his grip as he glanced at his cell phone to check the time. His eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs in surprise as he found he had five missed calls . . . from Killua. His phone had been on silent all day, so as to not let it interfere with the extra work he had placed on himself.

“You sound like you’re in love.” Senritsu spoke up again, and Kurapika bristled slightly.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to analyze me,” Kurapika had always wished he could quiet his heart around Senritsu. He never really appreciated that she could basically read his mind any time she wanted.

“I heard your confusion before you even got here. I thought I would try to help.” Senritsu sounded the slightest bit annoyed, as if she wished she couldn’t hear Kurapika’s heart either.

“I don’t need anyone’s help.” The word “love” echoed regrettably in Kurapika’s mind. No matter how friendly they had been with each other over the years, Senritsu still knew nothing about Kurapika. She didn’t have the authority to diagnose him like she was some psychiatrist.

A nearby street lamp flickered with a soft buzz, and it made Kurapika look up. It was still very dark and cold that early morning; the stars of the night sky were barely visible beyond all the glaring city lights. Kurapika and Senritsu had been waiting for almost an hour before they heard quiet footsteps from deep within the shadowed alley.

They both backed away from the wall and stood straighter as the presence got closer. The unknown person released their powerful, dominating Nen in a blaze of energy, and Kurapika did the same on instinct. Not too soon after, a deep chuckle reverberated against the surrounding concrete. Kurapika was sure he knew that laugh . . .

“Oh my, how you’ve _grown_ . . .” came a slow, sensual voice that Kurapika recognized in an instant.

“Hisoka?” he blinked as the man came into the faint yellow glow of a street light. Hisoka’s appearance had changed yet again: he was wearing a completely black training outfit decorated with red card suits. His hair was dyed rather flamboyantly; hot pink with purple streaks running through it. His ears were even pierced with what looked like small pink diamonds . . .

“What are you doing here?” Kurapika nearly demanded, feeling the urge to summon his chain weapon. He wouldn’t let Hisoka interfere with the job he’d already botched himself.

“Kurapika, he’s our contact.” Senritsu’s small voice explained.

“What?” Kurapika’s immediate concern was exactly _why_ Hisoka was running small-time errands for the mafia.

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Hisoka purred as he leaned against the wall opposite of them. “Haven’t we helped each other in the past?”

“I don’t need you to remind me of that.” Kurapika hissed, regrettably thinking back to a time when he and Hisoka had teamed up to benefit each other.

“Can’t get me off your mind?” Came a sharp, sly smile.

Kurapika responded with a dark glare. “You wish.”

“As sensitive as ever. Even though there’s been so much delicious progress . . .” Hisoka licked his lips, an action that sent an icy chill right through Kurapika’s core. “Tell me, have you ever taken the time to watch your aura?”

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Kurapika was in no mood for any more of Hisoka’s mind games.

Hisoka gave another deep chuckle, his slitted golden eyes gleaming before he finally got down to business. “My employers aren’t very happy with your belated delivery. I hope you can make up for it before they decide to exclude you from any further dealings.”

“You think I didn’t come prepared?” Kurapika softly questioned before he opened up the case, displaying its contents. “Untraceable hospital-grade anesthetics, blood thinners, and analgesics. Fifty milligrams of each, as requested. To apologize to the Ritz family, I’ve included a gift of five hundred milligrams of Pavulon, also without serial numbers.”

Hisoka raised an amused, slender pink brow at this. “Five doses of lethal injection? And I thought you had lost your touch . . .”

Senritsu’s concerned gaze was on Kurapika, surely trying to ask him with her eyes how he’d managed to get his hands on something so highly illegal. Ignoring her stare, Kurapika closed and handed the case of illicit substances to Hisoka. “You should never underestimate me.”

“Of course.” Hisoka’s gaze was overflowing with mirth, almost as if he was trying not to laugh as he looked into Kurapika’s stern gaze. His upturned, minutely twitching mouth was giving him away, despite his efforts.

“May I ask what’s so funny?” Kurapika’s false, charcoal eyes narrowed as Hisoka’s composure slowly continued to fade.

Hisoka leaned his much taller form down to Kurapika’s level, gently whispering in his ear, “Your aura is _breathtaking_.”

He sauntered away with another dark laugh, the sound ringing among the concrete of the all too quiet alley.

Once Hisoka disappeared, Kurapika noticed the sky was beginning to change. Bright streaks of orange, yellow, and pink were creeping away from the horizon to slice through the night and bring about a colorful sunrise.

“So I’m not the only one . . .” Senritsu said softly behind him.

Kurapika’s head turned in her direction. “What?”

“Nothing.” Was her answer before they silently parted ways.


	6. Chapter 6

_Ring . . . Ring . . . Ring . . . The number you have dialed is not-_

Killua hung up, refusing to leave Kurapika yet another message.

He sighed tiredly to himself as he sat on the end of a bench press in a gym, with a small towel around his shoulders and his phone in his hands. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to think about the blond; he was supposed to be training. And yet, here he was stopping his regimen again to see if Kurapika might answer this time. Days had gone by since they’d last seen each other, and Kurapika still wasn’t answering his calls. Worst of all, Killua had no idea what to make of that.

Immediately, he felt pathetic for bothering Kurapika so much, but worry hit Killua straight after. Was Kurapika ok? Nothing happened to him in the days they spent apart . . . Right? He squeezed his phone as he thought about Kurapika’s beautiful crimson eyes being effortlessly tracked down by the huge mafia network that practically lived next door.

How much trust must it have taken for Kurapika to expose his glowing scarlet eyes that night that they spent together? Killua’s mind was instantly flooded with memories of the Kuruta crying out again and again in pure bliss . . . He never expected another man to have such a tantalizing bedroom voice . . . or such soft skin . . . or such a _tight_ , inviting body . . .

Remembering his current location, Killua forced away another potential erection before it had the chance to happen. No matter how he looked at it, he was letting Kurapika distract him from his real goal: he and Gon were preparing for Bisky’s return, and Gon was most likely so far ahead that Killua would never be able to catch up in the six days they had left . . .

Speaking of which, Killua and Gon were on talking terms again, to put it in the least confusing way. Killua recalled the way he heard Gon hesitate with his key card when he surely sensed Killua waiting for him in their hotel room. After two awkward hugs, one whole hour of stale, uncomfortable silence, and countless unfinished conversations, they considered themselves willing to repair their friendship. It would be a long and slow process to become completely comfortable again, but Killua expected that. He could still see the occasional glimpse of hurt whenever Gon glanced his way . . . They needed to rebuild the trust between them that Killua had essentially demolished.

_“You never told me . . . Not a word, nothing! I knew you were hurting, Killua. I knew for so long that something was wrong. And I always thought you’d tell me when you were ready. I thought you would do the right thing.”_

_“I thought I’d lose you! I care about you so much, Gon-”_

_“You should have just been honest with me! At least I would’ve felt like our friendship meant something.”_

_“It did mean something! It still means everything to me! That’s why I thought if I hid what I felt for you, you wouldn’t have to be disgusted with me. We could just continue on how we always were.”_

_“Oh, right. Because I don’t know you well enough to see when you’re silently suffering. Killua, you being who you are was weird for me to accept at first. I don’t get how or why, but still, it’s a part of you. And you’re my best friend. So I . . . Did you know Kurapika’s gay, too?”_

_“Um . . . Yeah?”_

_“Oh . . . So are you guys, um . . . I mean, you’re not . . .”_

_“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”_

_“Never mind. It’s not important.”_

Killua still wondered what exactly Gon had been getting at-

“Why’re you on your phone again?” Gon’s bubbly voice was suddenly behind him, making Killua jump and rush to shove his cell phone back into the pocket of his training shorts.

“It’s none of your business.” The words tumbled out in such a hurry, Killua had no control over them. Gon raised a questioning brow in response.

“You have been using your phone a lot today . . .” Putting a hand to his chin, Gon thought for a moment before snapping his fingers with a sly, playful look. “Killua has a boyfriend~!”

Killua felt blood rush to his face as he turned around to yell, “You idiot! Don’t assume things like that!”

Gon’s boisterous, teasing laughter rung in the air as he clapped Killua on the shoulder. “Relax, I’m only kidding!”

Killua continued to grumble under his breath, crossing his arms and unsuccessfully willing his blush away.

“Oh come on, don’t be mad.” Gon grinned as he sat next to Killua on the bench press with two sizable dumbbells. Handing his friend one and starting to curl the other, Gon sighed contentedly. “The thought of you finding love makes me so happy . . . You definitely deserve that. But just know, if he ever hurts you . . . he’ll answer to me.”

“I don’t have a- a boyfriend.” Killua replied awkwardly, watching his own dumbbell rise and fall as he curled it. “And I don’t know if I’ll be ready for that for a long time.”

“To be fair, you’ve only let yourself get close enough to one person.” Gon pointed out while switching the weight to his other hand. “Why not try that with someone else?”

“It’d be dangerous.” Killua affirmed with a shake of his head. “I mean, think about who I am. What family I belong to. I’m sure there will be people that want to get close to me simply because of that . . .”

A look of concern crossed Gon’s features as he finished his curls and set the weight down. “If someone does that, they don’t deserve you. And you’re a better judge of character than you think. Just give it time, Killua. You’ll find a way.”

_I’ve already had sex with Kurapika, and I think we might do it again. Does that count?_

Killua ran his free hand through his hair in an almost frantic way, banishing the thought he nearly said out loud. _Compartmentalize, Killua . . ._

“You worry too much.” Gon said through a bit of laughter. “You’re really kind, you always dress well, and you’re an attractive guy. I don’t see you having any problem dating.”

At hearing Gon call him attractive, a furious blush streaked deep red across Killua’s cheeks. “Don’t just think you know what I’m thinking!! Can we talk about something else . . . Please?”

The young men had migrated to different work-out equipment, sitting down at separate leg press machines. After connecting all the available weights to each pulley, they easily manipulated the moving platforms. Killua spared a smirk for a particular group of body builders who watched them with their jaws on the floor. Gon, who hadn’t noticed the attention they attracted, was still thinking to himself as he stared at the ceiling. “Well, I was thinking that after we’re done for today we should go see Kurapika. It would be good for us all to hang out again.”

Doing his best to keep his widening eyes in his skull, Killua glanced away from Gon and feigned a casual attitude. “How about we do something together, just the two of us?”

Gon made an unsatisfied noise in his throat. “Well, Kurapika’s our friend, too. I mean, Bisky might make us move cities or something once she gets here.”

A strange sense of panic wound its way around Killua’s heart and he replied, “She wouldn’t do that. Would she?”

Gon’s leg presses increased in speed only slightly as his brows furrowed. “I have no idea what she has planned. So, we should spend time with Kurapika while we’re still here.”

“You can leave the city if you want, but if she tries to move us, I’m staying here.” Killua had no idea what exactly was compelling him to say this, but he’d never felt more sure of any decision he’d ever made. He had to stick with it.

Gon had stopped moving the machine, and swung his legs over the side to sit on the edge of the seat. “Ok, I wish you would quit lying to me.”

“I’m telling the truth. If Bisky tries to move us, I’d rather stay here.” Killua turned his head to look at his friend, remaining reclined in the leg press but not moving it.

Gon rubbed his face with a hand, slumping over and leaning his elbows on his knees. “That’s exactly what I mean. You wouldn’t choose to stay in Yorknew just because you felt like it. You must have met someone.”

Killua crossed his arms and retorted, “Just because I’m not following you everywhere you go, you think I’m dating someone? What if I’m trying to make a life for myself, and not be your shadow?”

Killua was pinned by a dark glare as Gon rose from his leg press. “I know you need to have your own life. And I’ll support that, but somehow I don’t think you making the random decision to stay in a city you don’t even like makes any-”

“Stop analyzing me!” Jumping to his feet, Killua gritted his sharp teeth as he rivaled Gon’s stare. “I didn’t “meet anyone” or anything! I only want to stay because . . .”

“I know who you’ve been calling all day. I saw it on your screen.”

“You looked at my phone?!”

“Yes, Killua! I’ve been so worried about you, and you give me no answers! What else am I supposed to do?!”

“Not invade my privacy and mind your own goddamn business!!”

“Why did you call Kurapika eleven times today?”

“Oh my god, you even counted . . .”

“Answer me, damn it!”

“He understands me, ok? While you thought I was missing . . . for most of that time, I was really with him. What I’m going through right now . . . he knows what it’s like. I really owe my life to him. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

Although his aura was still nearly spilling over with irritation, Gon seemed satisfied with Killua’s answer. “Can we just be honest with each other from now on? No more lies, no more secrets. Please, Killua?”

“I want to say yes, Gon. I really do . . . But I don’t think I can promise anything.”

“Killua-”

“No matter if I would have told you about my feelings immediately or five years later, I knew we would get the same result. Admit it: we will never be as close as we were ever again.”

“Don’t say that-”

“I still have feelings for you, even now! Even after everything, I still . . .” Killua stopped himself, unable to say anything more. He looked away, feeling a sharp, constricting pain in his chest as tears burned in his eyes. An overwhelming instinct that chilled Killua to his core told him to run.

Gon cautiously reached out to his friend, fear and apprehension shining in his stare. “Killua, please don’t. Don’t run away from me again.”

 Killua couldn’t speak. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him, telling him he was a fool for staying in place.

“Please don’t run. I promise I’ll do whatever I can to make things better.”

Killua’s dry mouth opened, and he spoke without another thought. “I think we should start by getting separate rooms.”

* * *

 

The sun was setting by the time Killua convinced Gon he wasn’t going to run away again, and he was only going to visit Kurapika. And of course, whenever he returned to his separate hotel room, he would text Gon to let him know he was back and safe. The concentrated orange glow of the setting sun blazed right in Killua’s vision as he walked, but it didn’t bother him as much as he expected.

If the need to see Kurapika had been strong before, it was unbearable now. Everything was slipping through Killua’s fingers: his friends, his life, his sanity . . . things he thought would never change. Now, everything was different. He felt so odd and disjointed . . . so very lost and without a purpose. He’d always thought his purpose was to stay by Gon’s side, but now Killua was sure he’d been wrong. So wrong this whole time . . . What was he supposed to do now? Where could he really go?

Flashes of blond hair, hazel eyes, and a perfect smile assaulted Killua’s jumbled thoughts. Dashing up three flights of metal stairs outside building 4A and making a sharp left led Killua to door 109. Knocking loudly on the painted metal as soon as he got close enough, Killua held his breath as he waited. And waited . . .

Knocking even louder, Killua waited for roughly five more minutes before the door opened. His heart hammered and his stomach flipped uncontrollably as he saw Kurapika shyly curled behind it. Without exchanging any words, Killua was allowed inside.

The first thing Killua noticed was that he had missed the smell of the little apartment. Everything smelled like Kurapika: delicately earthy with a hint of orchids. Instantly, Killua felt more at ease and all his muscles relaxed.

Kurapika, however, was regarding him cautiously with his arms folded in front of his body. Killua’s heart ached and blood rushed to the lower half of body as he took in the sight of the blond. Tight faded jeans wrapped around his long, luscious legs; and a soft-looking, jade green sweater hung from his shoulders, looking adorably too big for him as it concealed half of his thighs and nearly hid his hands. Large, worried, _beautiful_ hazel eyes blinked in confusion. “Is everything ok, Killua?”

“It is, now.” Killua said before he could stop himself. Kurapika continued to keep his distance, and Killua decided to go out on a limb. “I really missed you.”

Kurapika combed a hand through his hair, which Killua noticed was slightly messy yet alluring. The Kuruta looked away and seemed to take a tiny step backwards. “I think I know why you’re here, and I’m going to say no.”

“What?”

Glittering ruby earrings swung as Kurapika shook his head. “I have to say no. And I have to ask you to please leave.”

Killua felt his heart sink indefinitely. “But-”

Kurapika weakly held up a hand, averting his eyes as he held himself tighter. “We can’t do this. It happened once, but never again. It was a mistake, Killua.”

Desperation rose in Killua’s throat, making him feel ill. “You don’t really mean that.”

The blond strode to his closed front door, threatening to open it again. “Please, Killua. Just go.” His voice was slowly deteriorating, going from commanding and firm to frail and unstable. 

“Kurapika-”

“This can’t happen! If you stay here any longer, things might . . . we’ll . . .” The Kuruta interrupted, finally looking into Killua’s eyes and pleading with him.

Suddenly, Killua found his opening. Coming closer to the blond who’d already trapped himself against his own front door, Killua whispered huskily, “We’ll do what?”

“Don’t make me say it.” Looking even further away, Kurapika turned his head as his back met the locked door behind him.

A low, pleased sound rumbled quietly in Killua’s throat as he admired Kurapika’s vulnerable position. “I need to hear it.”

“Leave now. Please . . .” Kurapika’s breathing quickened, and Killua’s sharp eyes saw his hazel irises begin to shimmer.

“Stop acting like you don’t want it.” Killua traced his fangs with his tongue and watched wisps of silky blond hair caress a flawless, exposed neck.

“What would Gon say if he saw us? What would he think-”

Killua cut the blond off, pinning him tightly against the door with an audible _thump_. Intense, narrowed blue eyes bored holes into shocked hazel as Killua leaned in, his face inches from Kurapika’s. “What we do is none of his damn business. I meant it when I said this stays between us. He doesn’t need to know anything.”

“Don’t try to make me believe you feel nothing where Gon is concerned.” Kurapika argued, staying as still as he could with his palms flat against the wall at his sides. “What we did before isn’t healthy for you right now. We should-” Killua silenced Kurapika with a kiss, reliving the unique, addicting citrus flavor of the blond’s mouth. But all too soon, Kurapika threw his head to one side to break it. Killua instead began kissing and nipping the perfect neck that begged him to mark it again, not being deterred in the slightest. And despite the tiny squeaks and gasps he made, Kurapika was still struggling. “Killua, this can’t happen anymore. It’s bad enough that it happened once already.”

Killua stopped his advances, finally growing tired of the blond’s mixed signals. “I know what I want. So make up your mind. Either you want me gone, or you want me to stay. Your choice.”

“Are you really sure about this?” Kurapika reminded Killua of a small, frightened animal in that moment. He almost looked as if he would really tell Killua to leave as his chest heaved and his eyes darted wildly from the doorknob to Killua.

Almost afraid to touch him, Killua reached out and trailed his fingertips gingerly down the Kuruta’s cheek as their gazes finally locked. He felt as if he couldn’t look away as he continued to pet Kurapika. The touch seemed to put the panicking older male at ease; until a small, scared voice admitted, “I’m afraid we’re making the wrong choice.”

“Why are you doubting it? Why not just give in?” Killua’s words were barely above a whisper as he leaned down towards the blond and grasped his chin.

Their lips almost touched in that moment. Killua could feel Kurapika’s hot breath on his face, and it filled him with such a delicious anticipation. He didn’t dare press his body to Kurapika’s and reveal his current condition; at least not yet. Killua needed to know that Kurapika needed it just as much as he did.

“He hurt you and you’re not thinking clearly.” Of course, Kurapika had to fight it until the very end . . .

“Please, Kurapika. I want you . . . I _need_ you. Please . . .” Killua didn’t even recognize the tone of his own voice; it had never gone that deep before. “Don’t you want me, too?”

Kurapika’s answer was in the form of action, rather than words. After gently gripping Killua’s wrists, the blond leaned upwards and initiated a kiss. He’d slipped his tongue into Killua’s surprised, unresponsive mouth for half a second before pulling away. He stared at Killua with slight apprehension in his gaze, waiting for a response.

And Killua couldn’t help but grin. “. . . Well, that was new.”

They gravitated back towards each other before they knew it. They kissed for what seemed like hours, getting lost in every slow and gentle press of lips. They took time to explore each other’s bodies, each pair of hands touching everything they could. Killua had cupped Kurapika’s face in his hands before lowering them down his slender neck and around small shoulders. He lingered there for a while and then grasped firm, lithe arms to finally pull Kurapika closer. Killua enjoyed the feeling of another clothed, straining erection pulsing against his own. He responded to the touch with a needy groan; right in time with Kurapika’s helpless mewl. The sounds reverberated in their mouths as they continued to kiss, slowly involving their tongues as Killua roughly gripped the blond’s hips.

Kurapika did his fair share of exploration, sneaking his hands up Killua’s shirt as their kisses got messier. His thin hands traced every muscle of Killua’s chest and then slid down past his stomach to rest at the button of his jeans. Smoldering crimson eyes seemed to undress him as Kurapika purred low in his throat, “Come to bed with me . . .”

Hearing Kurapika’s voice drop like that was the worst thing that could have ever happened to Killua’s patience. Easily scooping the blond up into his arms, Killua headed to the sofa in the living room. After setting Kurapika down on it, he went straight to work on getting the older male’s jeans off. Although Kurapika was hardly protesting as he lifted his hips to help get his pants off, he teased with a sultry smirk, “The bed is just down the hall.”

“I can’t wait any more.” Yanking both Kurapika’s jeans and boxers off his legs, the cock that sprang from their confines was quite possibly the most gorgeous thing Killua had ever seen. Sure, he had felt it before, but he’d never had the chance to see it in broad daylight like this. Immediately, his mouth began to water as the hardened organ twitched and dribbled precum from its swollen head. Everything about it was perfect: the length, the thickness, every single vein, the way the shaft rested delicately against Kurapika’s stomach and dirtied his adorable sweater, the silky-looking skin of his testicles, and his smooth, flawless thighs. Even the unmistakable, heady scent of his arousal was intoxicating . . . But Killua suddenly found himself glancing back up to focus on just beneath the head of the penis.

His arousal waned a bit as realization struck him. “You’re circumcised . . .”

As far as Killua knew, circumcision was not a common practice at all. Be it for religious purposes or some other twisted tradition, it was rare to find someone who was unfortunate enough to have been clipped as a child. But Killua never expected to find another . . .

Kurapika, who had already been looking nervous under Killua’s scrutiny, reached down to hastily stretch his sweater over his lap and then tried to get to his feet. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“Wait!” Killua forced Kurapika back down to the sofa and got between his legs again. Looking into an interesting mix of half-scarlet, half-hazel irises, Killua held Kurapika’s bare thighs as he affirmed, “You’re not alone.”

Kurapika blinked for a few moments before saying, “Do you mean . . . you are too?”

Killua was sure he was going to hear “why?” next. Of course that was the next logical step. Here it comes . . .

“Show me.”

Killua’s erection was back to full attention and all previous thoughts were abandoned at those words. He stood and undid his jeans, feeling nerves build up and flutter wildly in his stomach. Pulling his clothes down far enough only to show his cock, heat blazed through Killua’s face as he stared at the floor.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re beautiful.” The earnest words made Killua look back up. Kurapika looked entranced by the sight of him, his eyes burning red once more as he lifted his sweater back up to re-expose himself.

“Me, beautiful?” Killua said with a slight scoff at himself. “I mean, look at you . . .” Getting on his knees between Kurapika’s legs, Killua wasted no time in leaning forward and tasting the leaking head of the erection in front of him. Experimentally, his tongue darted out to collect and swallow the clear, sticky fluid.

A sharp gasp along with a loud, throaty “ _A-ah!_ ” graced Killua’s ears, and ultimately he decided he could live with the distinct salty flavor if he could keep making Kurapika moan like _that_ . . .

Killua kept using his tongue, thoroughly licking up and down the hot shaft and bathing it in his saliva. Kurapika shielded his eyes with a forearm while his body shook, unable to do anything but grip the upholstery beneath him and cry out in pleasure. If only licking did this much, what would happen if Killua actually put it in his mouth?

Taking care to tuck his sharp teeth away, Killua opened his mouth and tightly sealed it around half of Kurapika’s erection. His head bobbed up and down as he swirled his tongue around sensitive, velvet-soft skin. Kurapika spread his legs and quivered as he moaned out Killua’s name . . . .

Hearing his name endlessly flowing from Kurapika’s beautiful lips was indescribably confusing. Killua wanted Kurapika to keep doing it, and yet he wasn’t comfortable with it at all. The sound of Kurapika’s melodic, pleasure-ridden voice calling out for him by name over and over was . . . somehow as daunting as it was alluring. And somewhere in the darkest corners of his mind, Killua could hear another voice he’d fantasized about for the past five years crying out in the same damn way . . .

“Killuaa~ . . . Oh, Killua . . . _Killua_!”

Releasing Kurapika’s now red, throbbing erection, Killua took enough time to gasp out “Please, no names.” before greedily taking the organ back in.

Immediately missing the heat of Killua’s mouth, Kurapika had uncovered his eyes and looked down at the silver head in his lap. But not too long after, he sighed and moaned in contentment when the wet, slick pleasure had returned. Now that both of Kurapika’s hands were free, Killua felt them stroking his hair and tugging at him lightly. With a few not-so-gentle bucks of his hips, Kurapika tried to push himself deeper into Killua’s mouth. “More! Please . . . Ki- I think I might-!”

Killua welcomed the rest of the blond into his mouth, feeling grateful that Kurapika had heard and was respecting his wishes, regardless of how far gone his mind must have been. Using more of his tongue and tightening his lips, Killua went down on Kurapika much harder and faster, listening to the pitch and length of the Kuruta’s cries to help guide him in the right direction.

Unable to help himself, Killua had been fisting his own desperately underused erection as he continued to drive Kurapika to the brink of madness. The blond’s moans and screams echoed off the walls of the living room, his body relentlessly shuddering and writhing. Every ragged gasp and the tightening of the hands anchored in his hair spurred Killua on as he lapped up increasing amounts of precome.

“I-I’m so close!! Please let me come, Ki- _Aaahhh_!!”

With one last, loud cry, Killua felt Kurapika’s thick release hit the back of his throat in spurts as the cock in his mouth pulsed. As he readily swallowed the slightly bitter fluid, his own climax snuck up on him. And just as Kurapika was coming down from his high, Killua had reached his own. His vision went completely white as he forgot the world for the briefest moment in time.

When he had returned to conscious thought, Killua took in the lovely sight of a boneless, sated Kurapika, still half naked with a residual blush cooling on his cheeks. His long, bare legs hung uselessly over the front of the sofa, and Killua found himself caressing the supple skin of his thighs.

Blinking himself awake at the touch, Kurapika’s warm, tired-looking hazel eyes found Killua’s. “Did you . . . did you come?”

With a grin, Killua wiped his wet, sticky mouth on the back of his hand as he answered, “I’m ok. Don’t worry about it.”

Kurapika began to sit up straight, sliding himself away from the sofa as the concern in his features grew. “Are you sure? I could-”

“No, you’re ok. Actually, I was going to ask if you had any towels or something . . .” A sheepish chuckle bubbled in Killua’s throat as he scratched the back of his head. It only took a quick glance down for him to notice the puddle of semen on the wooden floor in front of him.

A thorough blush tinted Kurapika’s cheeks as he caught on. “Oh. So you . . . I’ll be back.”

Killua’s heartbeat quickened as he watched Kurapika walk towards the hallway, wearing nothing but his cute green sweater that just barely covered his ass. Taking a moment to zip up his jeans and straighten himself out, Killua was surprised by a warm feeling that rose and blossomed overwhelmingly in his chest. It was a feeling he’d only ever associated with Gon, but now . . .

Taking a seat on the sofa, Killua tugged on his hair. He shouldn’t feel so confused. What he and Kurapika had was simple and worry-free, with no strings attached. Uncomplicated sexual attraction with no other concerns, and they could still be friends.

What was so confusing about that?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Part 1

A week had gone by since Killua’s “visit” to Kurapika’s apartment. Granted, many things had happened within that small timeframe that kept Killua distracted enough from the fact: his and Gon’s relations were steadily improving, Bisky had arrived in Yorknew, and somehow that very morning Killua had managed to blow out every light single bulb in the hotel they’d been staying at.

It had been a complete accident, and Killua hadn’t even charged himself all that recently. He had no idea how it even happened in the first place . . . One minute the lights were working, the next everything fell in darkness and piles of shattered glass.

Now, Gon and Killua were currently exiting a taxi that had taken them to Ringon Airport. They had agreed to meet Kurapika near the baggage claim so they could all greet Leorio when his flight landed. And, after not answering Killua’s countless calls and texts from the days before, the Kuruta had the nerve to call Gon with that particular information. And then, Killua could only conclude that he was being avoided.

But on the other hand, maybe Kurapika meant to keep their interactions to a minimum around their friends, just as a precaution. It was getting hard to tell what his real intentions were . . .

Quickly making their way inside the airport, Gon and Killua bypassed the terminals and took a descending escalator to their destination. Killua was suddenly grateful that Leorio’s flight was coming in at seven-thirty in the morning. At least they wouldn’t have to weave around the usual amount of human traffic.

“So, you’re sure you weren’t using your lightening this morning?” Gon asked for the umpteenth time, apparently waiting until they were completely alone to speak.

“I swear I wasn’t even thinking about it. I was just brushing my teeth minding my own business, and then picking glass out of my eyes in the dark.” Killua cynically remarked, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jacket.

Gon hummed to himself while still thinking. “Well, I mean, I’ve noticed you’re getting stronger. Maybe your Nen’s trying to tell you something?”

That suggestion made Killua pause for a moment. “Could be.” He said with a shrug.

Gon smiled at Killua’s reply, but something about it wasn’t quite as satisfied as Killua would have liked.

The rising sun was painting the sky with a multitude of colors as the two young men found their way to the sixth conveyor belt in the baggage claim of the airport. As they leaned against a wall to wait for their other friends to show, Killua found his eyes drawn to the sight on display in the huge windows. Above the airfield was the most striking sunrise Killua had seen in a while. It was mostly a luminous, rich gold with rays of soft pinks and oranges. The warm colors transformed the dull blue-gray of the early morning sky, breathing life into it. Oddly enough, the sight reminded Killua of his own life.

For the first time, he genuinely felt like his own person. He felt so free now, able to go wherever and do as he pleased without worrying about looking after anyone. No wonder Gon was so happy all the time, if this was how he felt. It was unbelievably empowering . . .

Killua saw Gon’s eyes light up out of the corner of his vision, and he turned to look in the same direction. Then he almost wished he hadn’t as he saw Kurapika walking towards them. Killua’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest as the golden sunrise reflected in Kurapika’s hazel eyes.

Of course, Kurapika was as stunning as always, in dark jeans, a red tank top, and a thigh-length, dark brown jacket with blonde fur lining its hood. His hair was the slightest bit messy again and he must have noticed this, tucking some behind one ear distractedly.

Making himself look away, a sense of dread and foreboding squirmed in the pit of Killua’s stomach.

This would be the first time they’d both be around their friends since they’d started their arrangement. How were they supposed to act? Should they just avoid each other or try to talk? With visions of what they had done only a week prior tampering with his better judgment, Killua had half a mind to just pretend he didn’t notice Kurapika. For the whole day . . .

No, he couldn’t possibly get away with that. Everyone would notice and demand answers. But, how on earth could they even expect to start a conversation? It’s not like Kurapika would just walk right up and say-

“Hello, Killua.” The fact that this voice hadn’t been in his head almost startled Killua out of his own skin. Kurapika was now standing a few feet away and giving him a casual smile. Didn’t the secret they were keeping bother the blond at all?

“Uh, hey.” Was the ungraceful response that tumbled from Killua’s mouth. What could he really be expected to say?

“You two look exhausted. Is everything alright?” Kurapika’s concerned eyes scanned both Killua and Gon, most likely noticing their depleted Nen rather than their generally normal physical appearance.

Gon was the first to speak up. “We started training with Bisky a few days ago, and she’s being tougher on us than I ever remember. And when she’s in charge, _everything_ she says goes. Except for when she talked about moving us to the Bonzanti Mountains up north. She just suddenly changed her mind. Like she looked at Killua for less than a second and said “never mind” . . . It was weird.”

Slightly scowling, Killua crossed his arms and retorted, “Hey! I told you I had nothing to do with her final decision. Bisky changes her mind about things all the time. Or did you forget that?”

“No! I just thought that it was weird that she looked right at you before she said no. That’s all.”

“You think everything Bisky does is weird. This isn’t the first time.”

“I swear it seemed strange, though. I think you noticed it, too-”

“Will you just drop it?!”

Both young men were interrupted by light, carefree laughter, and they turned in surprise to find that Kurapika was the source. His eyes were closed and his cheeks were the slightest shade of pink; the sight alone made Killua have to find his breath again. When his laughter had calmed, Kurapika said, “I knew everything would be ok.”

Killua’s falling out with Gon, that happened not even a few weeks ago . . . was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of.  And despite the reassurance and relief in Kurapika’s words, all Killua felt now was confusion. A warm sphere of energy rose and expanded between his lungs, but not before he felt it split in two distinct halves. Killua fought a blush as his eyes darted back and forth from his two best friends. How could he feel so strangely about two different people?

He still cared for Gon. So very deeply, in a way that was still far beyond friendship . . . But Killua could say the same about Kurapika and not exactly be lying. Or could he?

Gon’s simple honesty and warm-hearted smile . . .

Kurapika’s kindness and ethereal beauty . . .

Killua wasn’t sure where to turn any more. Gon or Kurapika? The one who had no chance of ever wanting him back, or the one who might maybe, one day . . .

Once again, Killua’s friends were looking elsewhere and acknowledging someone without him, Gon waving his arms over his head and Kurapika giving a more demure smile. Killua however, had sensed Leorio before he’d seen him coming through an arriving flights gate. There was also a presence next to him that Killua did not recognize; the two had been talking before Leorio waved back to his welcoming party.

Leorio’s height of 6”4 and his general suit attire hadn’t changed, but the way he presented himself was definitely more subdued and professional. Killua had heard something from Kurapika about Leorio recently becoming a doctor. He’d been working as a registered nurse for quite a few years before he got the job, but he was obviously proud of his new position. Killua could see it in the way he carried himself.

That was wonderful for him, Killua thought with a smile. Underneath his brash, superficial mask, Leorio had always been a truly good person.

In retrospect, it was incredible to see all of his friends growing and changing for the better: Leorio finally reaching his goal of becoming a doctor and being in a place of power to help those in need, Gon gaining the skills and knowledge he needed to be on the same level as his father, and Kurapika letting go of all that bitter, festering hatred to make a new life for himself . . . It was amazing to think that the last time they had all been together, they were only kids with distant hopes and dreams.

And now, Killua felt like it was his turn. If there was any time for change, it was now: All personal conflicts aside, what did he really want from life? He still wasn’t entirely sure, but he was only eighteen; he could afford to spend a few more years thinking. But for now, his increasing power and abilities were calling for his immediate attention, so some individual training was a good place to start.

While Killua had been reflecting, Gon rushed up to Leorio to squeeze the life out of him with a bear hug. Killua couldn’t help but laugh at the slightly-purple tint of Leorio’s face as the man struggled for air. Another laugh chimed in from across the room, and Killua’s eyes met Kurapika’s mirthful smile. They exchanged amused looks and quickly diverted their attention back to Gon and Leorio.

That wasn’t so hard, Killua thought. They had shared a simple interaction in front of all their friends without blushing or doing anything else that would raise suspicion. Maybe their arrangement would work out after all . . .

“Damn, you’re strong . . .” Leorio wheezed when Gon released him, and he slumped over with his hands resting on his knees. With a quick glance at Killua, Leorio continued, “And you’re both ridiculously tall!! What happened?”

Killua had to raise a teasing brow as he grinned. “Time? And puberty?”

Leorio scowled, which had Killua nearly purring in self-satisfaction. He’d really missed riling the old man . . . “I know that! Man, I just can’t believe it’s been four whole years since we’ve all been together like this . . . And speaking of height, I thought you’d at least cap out at 5”9.” Leorio added jokingly in Kurapika’s direction.

The blond looked sheepish as three pairs of eyes naturally had to look down at him. “It’s good to see you, too.” Kurapika said with the slightest bite in his voice.

“Oh, leave him alone, Leorio. He’s perfect the way he is.” Killua spoke up without thinking, and the attention of three pairs of eyes was now on him. Leorio and Gon looked puzzled by Killua’s interesting choice of words, and Kurapika was silently regarding him with a concerned yet warning stare.

The conversational atmosphere between the four friends dwindled slightly after Killua’s little stunt . . . How those words even made it past his lips, Killua had no idea. And that, of all things, reminded him that Leorio was completely unaware of his sexuality. Oh great, more moral responsibilities . . .

The stranger Leorio had been talking with earlier had seemed to make a beeline for Kurapika as soon as he was able. The man was fairly tall, with his height rivaling Leorio’s. He dressed a bit more casually in work slacks and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His eyes were also a striking ice blue, which complemented his fair skin and short, dark hair. His facial structure reminded Killua of Kuroro Lucifer, oddly enough, and then he wondered if Kurapika also saw the resemblance.

The man had flashed a winning smile and introduced himself as Hideki Kimura.

Kurapika had given his own name as he blinked and took a small step back. Killua recognized a far-off look his eyes; he was surely having flashbacks . . .

Hideki looked a bit worried yet still amenable. “I didn’t startle you, did I? Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice you.”

“No, you’re alright. Don’t worry.” Kurapika’s expression was the exact opposite of his casual words. He’d taken to wrapping his arms around himself, either in self-reassurance or defense.

And still, Hideki pressed on, seeming determined to keep Kurapika’s attention. “Leorio’s told me so much about you. He said you live here?”

Kurapika proceeded to answer, but Killua tuned it out. Not caring that he had been eavesdropping, Killua instantly got a strange feeling from the exchange he heard. His stomach flipped in a way he’d only really felt a few times before . . . like his instincts were trying to warn him of something.

But it could just be that he was crazy and needed to stop feeling so many things. Maybe Killua was letting his emotions get out of hand. Reigning himself in, he ultimately decided to leave Kurapika alone, and focus on Gon and Leorio.

While waiting for Leorio and Hideki’s luggage to come around on the nearby conveyor belt, Leorio told Gon and Killua about how he’d ended up getting his job. There had been an important surgery one morning that he was acting as nurse for, but the patient’s doctor had never arrived. The patient, an eight-year-old girl, had already been anesthetized and would be in serious danger if they didn’t get the procedure done immediately. And so Leorio had stepped in and taken charge, not wanting anything to happen to her. He worked quickly, despite the protests from his colleagues, and was able to save the girl’s life. And not too long after, he was awarded the previous doctor’s position.

“You’ll make a much better doctor than that other guy.” Gon affirmed, obviously wrinkling his nose at the thought of someone abandoning a sick little girl when she needed them the most.

“Well, I don’t know yet. When I go back to the hospital, they’ll have a place open for me. I’m hoping for the pediatric ward, but we’ll see.” Leorio answered with a pensive sigh.

Looking away from Kurapika for a moment, Hideki smiled encouragingly and said, “You need to stop being so hard on yourself, Leorio. You’re already one of the best RN’s they have. Face it, this was a long time coming for you.”

“You guys always said stuff like that.” Leorio rolled his eyes playfully. “But look at you, mister transfer. Up and leaving us for Yorknew. We’re really hurt, you know.”

Before Hideki could come up with a response, an infinitely more comfortable Kurapika had spoken up.

“So you’ll be living here?” And just like that, Hideki’s attention was stolen again.

Killua spared a confused glance at the blond and quickly looked away. Hadn’t he been uneasy and nearly unwilling to talk not moments ago? How was this Hideki character able to get him to relax so quickly? It only took a bit of focus from his sensitive ears for Killua to invade their conversation again . . .

Hideki had been in the middle of speaking first. “Well, my family moved around a lot when I was younger, and I’ve kind of taken after them. But, I was wondering about you. Where did you say you came from again?”

“I didn’t.” Killua clearly detected an amused smile in Kurapika’s voice. The hands in his pockets clenched into fists as he continued to listen. “But, I’m not all that interesting. I was . . . hoping to hear more about you.”

“Really? I don’t find myself all that regaling to talk about . . .”

“I think you are.”

An awkward but pleased laugh escaped Hideki, and he continued to talk while Kurapika listened. Personally, Killua did not appreciate that last statement. What the hell did Kurapika think he was doing? He sounded like he was possibly . . . flirting with Hideki? No, that couldn’t be it . . .

When you had a past like Kurapika’s, would you want to talk about it with someone you barely knew? That could be the reason more than anything . . .

It was then Killua noticed the positions they had all taken. The five of them had formed two separate groups; himself, Gon, and Leorio were in a triangle near the conveyor belt, and a few feet away were Hideki and Kurapika. They looked so engaged with each other that Hideki even had his back to Leorio. Killua’s stomach flipped again, and he couldn’t decide if what was happening was really ok . . .

But there was nothing wrong with getting to know someone, he supposed. If Leorio was to be believed, Hideki would now be living in Yorknew because of his job. And if he’d had any family or friends here, wouldn’t they have been waiting for him at the airport? Killua found a shred of pity for Hideki. It would do him good to have at least one friend in an unfamiliar place.

“Now that you’re six feet tall, you look really scary when you’re silently brooding like that.” Leorio, of all people, had broken Killua’s train of thought.

Gon’s laugh made Killua blush. “I’m not brooding! I’m just . . . thinking to myself.”

“I mean, when you were twelve it was sorta cute.” Leorio teasingly offered.

Turning a dark, narrowed gaze on the older man, Killua muttered, “Just who are you calling cute?”

“I always thought you were cute.”

Killua’s heart nearly stopped as he realized that was Kurapika’s voice. Swallowing his panic, Killua did his best to remain calm. Throwing off any further suspicion, he raised an unconvinced brow. “Everyone’s cute when they’re little. Except for me. I was terrifying.”

His comment earned him a quiet chuckle from most of the group. Kurapika stood silently in the background, sending him a wary _thank you_ with his eyes.

Killua replied with a concerned gaze that said _no problem, but be careful_.

Maybe it was for the best that they avoided speaking to each other. They weren’t as proficient at public interaction as Killua first thought . . .

Leorio’s and Hideki’s luggage had been delayed, taking almost forty-five minutes to arrive. But once they had finally located it, the morning airport traffic was starting to fill the hallways.

It had started with scattered groups of people, either standing around waiting for a flight or catching one. Then the scattered groups collected more people, doubling or tripling in size. The more the crowds grew and people came in, a flow of traffic started. People coming in through the left sets of doors and leaving through the right. A simple enough system, until the sizes of entering and leaving groups tripled again. People poured in and out of the hallways, nearly breaking the traffic flow. Such a number of people traveling in one place was intimidating for even Killua to think about. Not to mention, the noise level of such a number of people talking and moving was nearly deafening.  Swarms of crowds rushed to their flights, nearly carrying anyone who didn’t have their wits about them away in their strong current.

The five men had done a remarkable job of staying together once they entered what looked like coursing rivers of travelling people. Hideki was obviously not used to dealing with such a volume of human traffic and immediately looked uncomfortable. Kurapika had to take the man by the hand and lead him into the fray with a smile . . .

And Killua didn’t notice this at all. Nor did he care. He absolutely did not care about Kurapika’s reassuring hazel eyes looking into Hideki’s, or the latter’s very faint blush in response to that look. Not at all . . .

“Killua, keep up!” Gon had shouted, grabbing Killua by the shoulder of his jacket and dragging him along. Or maybe it was the force of all the people pushing their way through the hall that propelled them forward.

Once again, it was himself, Gon, and Leorio, with Kurapika and Hideki trailing a ways behind. And all the exits were still so far away . . . Killua kept an eye out for the two stragglers of their group, only because he was worried for their safety. Yes, that was it.

Just as Killua looked back, a particularly large group of fourteen people had knocked Kurapika and Hideki into the opposite lane of traffic. Worry pierced Killua’s insides when he heard Kurapika’s slight cry as the blond was shoved out of the way. But Hideki caught Kurapika before he could be carried away, and then he himself was pushed by another crowd. He’d accidentally backed Kurapika right into a huge support column, and one more wave of people pressed their bodies together.

Everything had happened far too quickly, in a matter of a few seconds; but Killua’s trained eyes caught every movement. And each movement, regardless of how accidental they were, made something smolder wildly in his chest. It faintly reminded Killua of the time Kurapika and Gon had hugged each other . . . What was this feeling?

He caught Gon’s sleeve and shouted over the noise. “We lost Kurapika!”

Finding a safe, less crowded spot by another support column to wait behind, Leorio and Gon tried calling the other two over. Killua, however, found himself unable to look away from the pair of them.

Hideki looked more concerned for Kurapika’s well-being than anything ( _as he should be_ ). He looked the blond over and asked “Are you alright?” Kurapika didn’t really respond and looked away from Hideki, which only seemed to worry the man further. From this distance and with the current noise level, Killua could only read lips. But what was going on was obvious enough, anyway.

As the two tried to find an opening to get across the hallway, a man with two huge suitcases plowed past them and hit Hideki’s lower back, sending him into Kurapika one more time. This time however, a blush spread furiously across the blond’s face as he tilted his head back with his eyes closed. Due to the sheer amount of people, Killua could not see what was going on past their shoulders. And he didn’t want to.

Killua knew that face. He’d been the cause of that face . . . He found himself wishing Hideki would get trampled as the two men found a brief opening in the never-ending flow of people.

“You guys alright?” Leorio asked.

“Um, yeah.” Hideki said with the tiniest tint of color in his cheeks. He looked down at Kurapika, whose blush was much more pronounced, and spoke in a hushed tone. “Are you sure you’re ok? I swear it was an accident. I’m so sor-”

“Everything’s fine, Hideki. The quicker we get out of here, the better.” Kurapika’s cold, distant tone towards the man was somehow soothing to Killua. It cooled the swelling heat in his chest as Hideki began to stick a bit closer to Leorio. They all began walking again, finding an exit that wasn’t entirely blocked by a mob of ebbing and flowing people.

_“That’s right. Back off.”_ Came a venomous thought as Killua glared holes into Hideki’s back. “Are you alright?” he found himself asking Kurapika once Hideki was out of earshot.

“Stop it.” Kurapika turned a frightfully dark look on Killua. “I’m not some helpless girl. Hideki doesn’t know what I’m capable of, but _you_ have no excuse.”

With that, Kurapika turned on his heel and followed their friends. Killua followed suit, still unsure of how to address what was happening. But the only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted Hideki to keep his distance.

_“It was only an accident. You can’t blame the guy.”_ Came a reasonable voice in his head that Killua couldn’t bring himself to listen to. He was infinitely more interested in following the voice that growled, _“Stay away from Kurapika, you bastard.”_

It was rather amusing for Killua to listen to Hideki as he struggled to regain Kurapika’s favor. The two had isolated themselves again and were walking a distance behind the rest of the group.

“I really am sorry . . . I would never take advantage of you on purpose. I know you probably don’t believe me . . . So I should just stop talking and save you the trouble.”

And still, Killua could feel the cold distance in Kurapika’s aura as he remained silent. Good. Kurapika needed to stand up for himself and-

“Let’s just put it behind us. Is that alright?”

Hideki brightened considerably and stuttered as he said, “O-of course! . . . And if it’ll make you feel better, I could take you out sometime.” Hideki’s playful tone completely belied the seriousness of the question he’d just asked.

Killua had almost stopped walking when he processed what happened: Hideki just asked Kurapika on a date.

He had to take a few steady breaths to calm himself, and quickly pocketed his hands that had just developed claws. This, he decided, was _not_ ok. Killua’s mind raced as he thought of every possible road block he could to keep this from happening.

“I’m sure he’d love to go out with someone that molested him in public.” Four pairs of eyes were on Killua in an instant, and everyone froze in place as they turned to face him.

Hideki didn’t seem riled, like Killua expected. Instead he looked cool and calculating as he said. “I wasn’t aware that you were even a part of our conversation.”

Killua felt his eyes narrow as he held himself back. “I am when you violate my friend and think you can get away with it.”

“Killua, that’s _enough_.” Kurapika had stepped between them with an almost exasperated look. Shaking his head, the blond strode out in front of the group and muttered. “Let’s just find a cab. Please.”

Hideki gave Killua a questioning glance before trailing after Kurapika. Killua had to stop himself from scowling in response.

“What’s wrong with Hideki, exactly?” Gon asked quietly as he came to Killua’s side.

“I . . . don’t know.” Killua knew the man wasn’t a bad person. He was protective and considerate of Kurapika, and hadn’t done anything wrong except for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But still, Killua hated seeing them together, more than he’d ever hated anything in a long time . . .

“Normally, you’re a pretty good judge of character. But now . . . I have to disagree.” Gon said as he coaxed Killua to continue moving with a gentle nudge. “I think maybe you’re just worried about Kurapika, and I get that. But don’t you think you might be getting a little . . . overprotective?”

Killua immediately shook his head. Overprotective? When it came to Kurapika’s honor, there was no such thing. “I don’t know. They might . . . I’m just afraid that they’ll . . . um . . .”

Gon raised an eyebrow at Killua’s unfinished sentence. “What? Have sex after the first date?”

Overhead, the glass bulb of the nearest streetlamp violently burst in a surge of blue light. The shards of glass rained down over the pavement as Gon leapt back for cover. The other three men had spared a backward glance, but at Kurapika’s insistence they kept walking.

Killua was lost in his own world. Thinking about Hideki embracing Kurapika: kissing him, undressing him, _claiming him_ . . . His claws had easily torn through the bottom of his thin jacket as he stared down at the sidewalk.

“Oh wow, this is really bothering you . . .” Gon said as he gently removed the tattered remains of Killua’s jacket, and threw it on a pile of black trash bags in an adjacent alley. “Killua, I don’t know what to say. If you’re really that worried about Kurapika . . . Hideki just doesn’t seem like a bad person to me. But I’ll keep an eye out with you, if you’re sure.”

Killua wasn’t really sure about anything anymore. Did he really think Hideki wasn’t right for Kurapika?

Or did he just want Kurapika all to himself?

 

Chapter 7: Part 2

The strange feelings were not going away. In fact, Killua would say they were getting worse.

By Leorio’s suggestion, the five of them had stopped for breakfast at a nearby coffee house. As they all sat at a rather large, U-shaped booth, Killua noted that the seating arrangement was odd. Starting from right to left, it was Gon, himself, Leorio in the middle, and Hideki and Kurapika on the other side. It almost seemed like Kurapika was being separated from his friends . . .

Although, Kurapika didn’t seem to mind. He actually seemed very interested in just Hideki, and no one else. Not once had he started a conversation with Gon or Leorio. Or even looked at Killua . . .

Killua huffed. Sure, Hideki was good-looking with a lucrative career, and was obviously very suave, what with the way he was keeping Kurapika’s undivided attention for the whole morning . . .

Hideki had been leaning on the table and studying Kurapika with deep interest. “I really want to know more about you. Where do you come from? I mean, you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever seen before . . . Forgive me for sounding forward, but you’re beautiful.”

Kurapika blushed, blinking and stuttering as he played with one ruby earring. The sight made Killua’s blood boil. “Well, I came from the Lukso Province. But I left a long time ago. I don’t really remember much from back then.”

“You must have come from one of the tribes down there.” A short nod from Kurapika made Hideki smile. “And those earrings were handmade by your people, right?”

“Oh, um, yes.” Kurapika was looking more detached from the conversation as it went on, and Hideki quickly noticed.

The man’s eyebrows drew up in worry. “I brought up some bad memories, didn’t I?  We don’t have to talk about this any more if you don’t want to.”

Kurapika sighed deeply, as if a weight had been taken off his chest as he replied. “I would appreciate that.”

“Anything for you.” Hideki answered easily. “But if you don’t mind, I do have one more request. I just, your earrings are gorgeous. They must be priceless artifacts from your culture . . . May I?” After a moment of thought, Kurapika submissively turned his head to expose one of the intricate pieces of jewelry. Hideki gingerly handled the dangling ruby, examining it in wonder. Another blush dusted Kurapika’s cheeks when Hideki got closer; the man’s breath must have been ghosting over his neck and making him shiver . . .

Killua suddenly wanted to break something.

Looking past his anger for just a second, Killua took a step back to analyze himself. What was he doing? Why was he getting so enraged by Kurapika simply conversing with another guy? It’s not like they were touching or any-

Glancing across the table, Killua suddenly zeroed in on a hand that was gently trailing long, dexterous fingers down Kurapika’s cheek. And the blond even seemed to be enjoying it . . .

As someone who had been battling bloodlust for most of his life, Killua could personally attest to having the occasional craving to kill someone. But at this moment, those mere whims paled in comparison to the blind compulsion that drove him to snap Hideki’s neck.

And yet he didn’t. He was a reformed assassin. And beyond that, a _good person_ . . .

The only thing that kept Killua sane was the fact that Kurapika had taken himself away with an embarrassed, almost uncomfortable blush.

Almost on cue, the food had arrived and gave everyone a much-needed distraction. At least now there was something keeping Hideki from violating Kurapika’s personal space . . .

After drowning a stack of waffles in front of him with syrup, Gon had looked over to Killua with worried eyes. “Are you ok? You’ve been quiet this whole morning.” He whispered while discreetly nudging Killua’s ribs with an elbow.

“I’m fine.” Killua answered quietly, picking the bright red cherry off the sundae he’d ordered and popping it in his mouth. No one, except for Hideki, thought anything of his strange choice of food. In the past, Killua would order dessert when the rest of his friends were eating normally anyway. There was no cause for suspicion-

“Come on. You only eat ice cream for breakfast when you’re upset.” Gon had continued under his breath, being the only person to know Killua well enough to apparently notice. “And you keep giving Hideki this really scary look-”

“I don’t trust him with Kurapika, ok?” Killua interrupted, doing his best to keep his voice down.

“I said before that he seems fine to me, and Kurapika looks happy with him. They have really good chemistry with each other, too . . .”

“That’s just it. It’s too perfect. This whole thing is fucking weird.”

“You two are almost twenty and yet you still tell secrets like kids.” Leorio said with a fond smile. “Anything you’d like to share?”

Gon laughed a bit too loudly and scratched the back of his head. “Oh no, we were just talking about our training. We didn’t want to bore you!”

“So you are working under Biscuit again.” Leorio mused as he cut into his steak and eggs. “This will be the third time, right?”

“Yeah. She’s already got us hitting the ground running.” Killua stuck his tongue out at Gon’s words, remembering the first day of intense physical training. Killua couldn’t think much less move for at least twelve hours after that . . .

“I should also say something in regards to training.” Killua’s head snapped over to Kurapika at the sound of the blond’s voice. “I’m meeting with my Nen master again as well. We should be starting next week.”

“Oh, cool! It’s like we’re all learning Nen together again!” A small smile curled Killua’s lips at Gon’s bright and cheery disposition. But then Hideki’s voice cut his happiness short.

“You’re a Nen-user too?” He had asked Kurapika in awe. “I’ve always wanted to study auras and how they work. It’s so fascinating.”

“It’s not much to talk about, really.” Kurapika looked away sheepishly, tucking his hair behind one ear.

“Give yourself more credit, Kurapika.” Leorio stepped in, gesturing with his fork as he leaned toward Hideki. “What did I tell you, man? He’s handsome, talented, and humble!”

The piercing sound of cloth and wood being forcibly torn startled everyone in the restaurant. Every patron and server went quiet and looked to the five men.

“Killua!” Gon was suddenly reprimanding him and Killua blinked in confusion, backing away from his friend’s scathing look until he found he couldn’t move his right hand. Looking down, Killua saw his claws had sliced four sharp streaks through the white table cloth and embedded themselves to the second knuckle in the wood underneath.

Scanning the four shocked faces around him, Killua nearly began to panic as he wrenched his now blunt hand away from their scrutiny. Most of the people in the restaurant hadn’t gotten a close enough look at what happened and went back to their own business, but those who had were now too scared to approach the table.

Leorio gave his friends a reassuring glance as he began to take out his wallet “It’s ok, everyone. I’m sure it was just an accident. I can pay for the table.”

“No, it’s my fault. I’ll cover it.” Killua heard himself say as he motioned for Gon to let him out of the booth. The dark-haired young man moved without another word. “It’s probably time for me to head out, anyway. I have training I need to get back to.”

After throwing an unknown, probably exuberant amount of money on the table to pay for his part of the bill and the damage he caused, Killua turned away to leave the restaurant. Once he had reached the hostess’s podium, he heard a gentle voice call his name from just a few feet behind him.

Killua didn’t have to look to know who the voice belonged to. “Please just leave me alone.”

“Promise me you’ll be ok.”

Killua sighed in resignation. “I can’t.”

“Killua-”

“I already gave you an answer. Now, please don’t let me keep you from . . . our friends.”

“Do you . . . want to come over later?”

“Maybe another time.” A small bell on the restaurant’s front door chimed as Killua left.

* * *

 

Kurapika helplessly watched Killua leave, knowing there was nothing he could say to stop him. He hugged himself as he stood in the entry way and stared at the stained glass in the door.

“Is there something I can help you with, miss?” A man wearing a red apron with a manager’s pin asked. Kurapika didn’t even have the heart to correct him.

“No, my table’s just over there.” Returning to his friends, Kurapika was taken by surprise when he saw Hideki standing, looking at him expectantly.

“Could I talk to you for a moment?” Kurapika swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded his head and followed Hideki outside. The slight wind of midday tousled Kurapika’s hair as he and Hideki stopped in the parking lot outside the building.

Hideki quietly cleared his throat before he faced Kurapika with a critical look. “I was trying to be respectful and mind my own business, but what’s going on between you and the white-haired kid?”

Kurapika knew this was coming, but that was no excuse for Hideki to forsake Killua’s name. “Excuse me?”

Hideki ran a hand through his short black hair and looked uncomfortable before he asked, “Is he your ex or something?”

Kurapika wasn’t surprised by Hideki’s assumption. But he answered the man with an evasive, “No. We’re just friends.”

“Or so you think.” Hideki suddenly rolled his eyes.

Eyes narrowing, Kurapika scrutinized Hideki and asked, “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Look, I think you’re a great person . . .” Hideki sighed, looking genuine but troubled. “But if you want to something more to come from this, I really think he shouldn’t be involved.”

Kurapika could only blink in disbelief at those words. “Who told you I was interested in dating?”

“Leorio. He said you were single and looking to start seeing someone. And he also said that I might stand a chance with you.” Discomfort pulled at Hideki’s features the more he spoke.

“He set us up.” Kurapika blinked, willing his crimson eyes away. He’d picked a terrible day to leave his contacts at home . . .

“So you were never interested in the first place.” Hideki realized with a bitter smile. Looking away, he ran a hand through his hair again and sighed. “That’s great.”

Kurapika wanted to amend that statement, to tell Hideki that he had found himself interested. For a brief time, he could see himself finding simple happiness in Hideki. Without worrying about his past, where he came from and all the emotional baggage that came with it. But what good was building a false world upon a foundation of lies for someone he could possibly be in love with?

If Kurapika were to truly love Hideki, he would tell him _everything_ : about the massacre of his clan, his blood-stained past filled with murder and other dark deeds, and his continued involvement with Yorknew’s mafia network. What if Hideki couldn’t accept these things? What if it pushed him away: a perfectly normal man who barely had knowledge of Nen?

And not to mention the Judgment Chain that still wound itself around Kurapika’s heart to this very day. Could Hideki accept that as well? It was very doubtful that he’d even be able to process that Kurapika had committed murder; and had been so ready to sacrifice himself, that he bet his own life on whether he could accomplish his revenge or not.

And Killua was another matter altogether.

It was clear to see that the younger male was miserable as he helplessly watched Hideki and Kurapika get closer. The scene Killua kept making was comparable to a silently suffering, jilted lover . . . And for sadistic reasons he would never admit out loud, Kurapika enjoyed watching Killua be so seethingly, uncontrollably jealous. Kurapika had been so convinced that Killua would never care for him in the way he wanted; but as soon as Hideki came along, his whole perspective changed. Maybe there was hope yet . . .

Even the slightest bit of interest Kurapika had shown Hideki seemed to fuel Killua’s anger, and Kurapika had been fascinated by it. He was amazed that Killua felt so strongly about even the prospect of Kurapika dating someone; even going so far as to destroy streetlamps, tables, and his own clothes . . . But then, this revelation left a gaping hole in Kurapika’s logic.

Hadn’t they agreed that they would only have sex, and nothing else? Kurapika would admit, it would be odd if he was dating someone and having sex with Killua at the same time. So their arrangement would have to be dissolved, at that point . . . Maybe that was what had Killua so concerned? But still, it didn’t merit the intensity of his reaction. It didn’t merit the obvious emotion and jealousy . . .

“Your silence is very reassuring.” Kurapika met Hideki’s hurt, ice blue gaze.

“Hideki, I-”

“You don’t have to lie. It’s fine. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Hideki had turned his back on Kurapika and walked away, waving over the nearest cab.

Kurapika was angry to say the least after he’d parted ways with Hideki and stormed back into the restaurant. Sitting back down at the booth, Kurapika shot a hard glare in Leorio’s direction.

“Where’s Hideki?” Leorio asked, obviously clueless.

Folding his hands on the table, Kurapika curtly replied, “He called a cab and left. And you have a lot to answer for.”

Blinking in realization, Leorio cleared his throat before saying. “Kurapika, I was only trying to help you out.”

“By setting me up with your friend.” The blond retorted.

Giving a disbelieving look, Leorio asked, “What’s wrong with wanting to see you happy?”

“I am happy.” Kurapika crossed his arms and looked away. “I’m fine the way I am. I don’t need a relationship. Especially not with someone that’s not a part of our world.”

Leorio rolled his eyes as he explained, “I started showing Hideki the basics of Nen. I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to teach him, too.”

“The basics . . .” Kurapika chuckled dryly, unable to believe what his friend just said. “Leorio, the _basics of Nen_ don’t account for me having to tell him where I really came from, what I’ve done, and what I still do today.” Reaching up to rub at his temples, Kurapika sighed, “He needs someone normal, someone who won’t have to lie to him every day. Someone he won’t have to worry about turning up dead. Someone who won’t tarnish him with their emotional baggage.”

“I told him that you were sensitive about certain topics. I told him to be careful with you.”

“Hideki doesn’t know our world, and we’ve all lived in it since we were children. I don’t see how you could expect me to force Hideki to assimilate to our culture. Because you know that would have to happen. And don’t get me started on what might happen to him if someone puts a price on my head . . .”

“Ok. I’m sorry. I guess I just didn’t put enough thought into this. Hideki is a really good friend of mine and so are you . . . I just wanted to make you both happy.”

“I understand you had only the best intentions.” Kurapika looked away for a moment, his downcast eyes determined. “But in the future, please don’t interfere with my personal life.”

The din of chatter and silverware took over for a moment before Leorio spoke again. “I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with Killua, but you guys probably would’ve exchanged numbers or something if he hadn’t screwed it up.”

“I already said I don’t need a relationship.” The darkest crimson-hazel glare seared right through Leorio’s head. “And if you dare speak ill of Killua again . . .”

Gon had also stepped in, declaring, “Killua’s going through some things right now, Leorio. I don’t know if he wants me to tell anyone, but I will say he’s been kind of stressed lately.”

“But still.” Leorio began as he clenched his fists. “Why would he ruin things for Kurapika like that? Why wouldn’t he keep his mouth shut and let his friend be happy?”

“Killua was just worried about Kurapika. He told me he didn’t trust Hideki.” Gon reasoned, the look on his face clearly showing that he even saw the flawed logic in such a statement.

“I’ve known Hideki for years.” Leorio angrily dismissed. “He’s a good guy and he would never hurt Kurapika.”

Gon cleared his throat and answered, “I don’t know how to explain this, but Killua’s really close to Kurapika. Things happened and now they have a different kind of bond, and Killua was just really concerned . . .”

Kurapika felt his eyes widen in horror at those incriminating words. “Gon . . . What has Killua told you?”

Gon’s answer was a clueless tilt of his head and, “That you’re both really close friends now. Why?”

The relief Kurapika felt was surely palpable as he relaxed in his seat. “Oh, no reason.”

Leorio looked increasingly more annoyed as he said, “Will someone please explain what’s going on?”

“Killua’s gay!” Gon finally shouted, looking relieved once he’d gotten it off his chest.

“Eh?” Leorio blinked.

“Yes. He’s gay, and for years I didn’t know. I only found out a few weeks ago, when he told me he liked me.” Linking his fingers together on the table, Gon held an almost ashamed look in his eyes.

Leorio seemed to shake his head, as if to right his thoughts. “Ok, how can I totally see the last part coming, but still be confused by the first? And what does this have to do with Kurapika?”

“I’m getting there!” Gon reprimanded before he continued. “So, I didn’t do things right, and Killua ran away for a while. I thought he was completely missing, but he’d been with Kurapika. And if it hadn’t been for Kurapika being there for him, I don’t think Killua would . . . be here anymore.”

Kurapika chose to remain silent. He refused to give away what he and Killua had been doing. In secret, behind all their friends’ backs . . . Killua was already well on his way to exposing them as it was, Kurapika realized as he stared at the mangled section of table across from him. There was no need for him to help fuel the fire.

Gon and Leorio seemed content enough to just continue arguing with each other, the former supporting Killua and latter blaming him. Everything that happened today was dangerous, and Kurapika couldn’t help but wonder: how long could he and Killua really keep this up?


	8. Chapter 8

Insistent, cool lips kissed a wet path down his neck, and Kurapika couldn’t help but moan in anticipation. He gripped the strong, sculpted body that pinned him to the bed and spread his legs wider, more than ready to accept whatever Killua would give him.

“Please, Killua . . . _Please_.” Kurapika begged incoherently while fruitlessly bucking his hips. Killua’s dexterous hand reached down to stroke the swollen, almost aching erection that pulsed against his body. “Oh, more . . . Please . . . Give me more!” Killua’s hands, his tongue, those sharp teeth . . . they were everywhere, leaving tiny bruises scattered on Kurapika’s body.

The room began to spin as he felt Killua easily penetrate him. He screamed at the sudden intrusion, but the hot friction of every thrust after that seemed to make time fast-forward. The delicious, addicting pressure in his abdomen built and built to an almost breaking point. And already, he was so close to coming . . .

He looked up at blazing, lust-blown blue eyes. The emotions he felt as their eyes locked were unbelievably powerful and unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. “Kiss me, Killua . . .”

Their mouths met, and the passion Kurapika felt invading him was quickly driving him over the edge.

So close . . .

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Kurapika jolted awake with a gasp, reaching to turn the alarm on his cell phone off before laying back down.

Yet another sexual dream had tormented him and left him with a throbbing, leaking problem . . . In his sleep-addled mind, Kurapika played with the idea of calling Killua to see if he had time to meet up later today, but eventually decided against it. It was possible that Killua could still be upset from the whole Hideki incident. Kurapika hadn’t gotten a call or text from Killua in days. And it had been nearly two weeks since they’d last been intimate . . .

But as he woke up completely, a harsh reality occurred to him that killed all possible arousal.

Kurapika didn’t want Killua near him. He wanted to keep Killua as far away as possible, to ensure his safety. From himself . . .

Thinking back to his decision to study under Mizuken, Kurapika had not yet told anyone what happened beforehand that initiated that call. At first he didn’t want to worry anyone, but now that everything had gotten so out of hand . . . what could he really say for himself now?

All Kurapika’s troubles had started when he began hearing a strange noise. The only sound he could compare it to was loud radio static, almost akin to white noise. It seemed to follow him everywhere, no matter what he did to combat it. It moved up and down in pitch and volume, doing as it saw fit. Kurapika had no say in how it plagued him, and after being its victim for nearly thirteen days, he’d almost decided he could simply get used to it.

That was, until he started losing control of his abilities not even a day after the noise appeared. His chains would conjure themselves and come to life of their own accord, moving and acting with what seemed like their own free will. Whenever this happened, Kurapika noticed the buzzing in his head would gain pitch and intensity.

The first incident he’d observed was when he’d dropped a pen. It had rolled a bit too far out of his reach, and when he stood to get it, a chain was suddenly dangling the pen in his face and buzzing roared in his ears. Of course, when Kurapika jumped back with a gasp, the chain dematerialized and the pen fell again. Then, the noise calmed. But, the only thing he knew was that he did not intend to summon his weapon.

There had been a few days of (almost) silence, in which Kurapika kept a watchful eye out for any more strange outbursts. But the next occurrence caught him when he’d least expected it: he woke one morning to louder white noise than usual . . . and then he found that he couldn’t move. After a moment of hyperventilation, Kurapika felt a force squeezing him to the mattress and looked down. His chains had come to life again and chained him to his own bed while he was asleep. But the worst thing was, he couldn’t make them disappear with a thought, like he’d always been able to do.

He’d been trapped for roughly two hours, tortured by the loud noises in his head all the while, before the chains decided to release him. After he was free, he rushed to call the only person he could think of.

_“Hello?”_

_“Is this Mizuken?”_

_“Kurapika?? It’s been years! How are you?”_

_“I’m . . . I could be better.”_

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“Will you . . . take me as your student again?”_

An unsure moment of silence struck. _“Well, I already taught you everything I could. I’m not sure how I can help you now-”_

_“Please. I wouldn’t call you like this if it wasn’t important. You know that. I need help, and I don’t know where else to turn.”_

_“Alright. Can it wait a week? I’ll try to get to you as soon as I can, but I can’t promise anything.”_

_“I . . . I think it can wait. Thank you, Master.”_

In hindsight, Kurapika should have asked for more immediate help then. He shouldn’t have let his pride and his independent tendencies get in the way . . . Instead, a few days after Leorio had arrived in Yorknew, he went to a public library to gain access to the Hunter Association’s website. He scoured the thing for answers, clues, hints . . . anything would have helped at that point.

How was he losing control? Was this at all common among Nen-users? How could it be stopped? . . . Could someone else be causing this? And if so, then who?

He remembered the fear and worry that gripped him as he continued to search and search, and find nothing.

The resource that had helped Kurapika countless times before was failing him now. He couldn’t imagine what might happen if his powers continued to get out of hand . . . What if he ended up hurting someone? Innocent people, his friends . . . or _Killua_.

The blind horror that twisted around Kurapika’s spine made him panic. He was sure any one of his chains’ abilities could choose to awaken . . . even Chain Jail: an ability that could render any Nen-user powerless. What if Kurapika caught Killua in his Chain Jail . . . and killed him?

The white noise surged through his head, vibrating in his skull and shutting his vision down.

It was almost as if he’d lost consciousness, but the peculiar thing was that all his other senses were still active. He felt the warm metal of his weapon materialize on his right hand; and as much as he struggled, fought, and screamed at himself in his head . . . The chains had taken over, and there was no stopping them.

He’d heard the distinct cry of metal on metal, snaking around himself and his surroundings. Not too soon after, he felt the chains picking up chairs, tables, whole bookshelves, and whipping them across the building as if they weighed nothing. They snapped apart in pieces against the farthest walls, and Kurapika heard every splinter. His heart was in his throat and choking him with how hard it was hammering. Helplessly, he listened to the shrieks of terrified people as they fled.

_“Monster!”_

_“Demon!”_

_“Red-eyed devil!”_

Shame, guilt, and an all-consuming fear clawed through Kurapika as the damage continued. The sound of chains relentlessly smashing into windows and punching through walls; tearing apart wood, plastic, and metal alike . . . It assaulted Kurapika’s remaining senses. And in the backdrop of it all was that damnable buzzing . . .

Kurapika felt the chains twirl their way about support beams and the remaining woodwork, and suddenly he knew what was going to happen. His chains were going to tear down the whole building.

Still, he had no control.

And the buzzing. The deafening, maddening static in his head, still ringing in his ears. Never ceasing and driving him insane . . .

Soon, he’d started to smell smoke and feel an unbearable heat . . .

After that, the rest of Kurapika’s memories had been a blur. He came to with a ragged cough in the charred, smoking remains of the public library. His clothes were singed and ashen, and the burn of smoke still filled his throat as he unsteadily got to his feet. He’d escaped before any of the firemen or paramedics could find him.

As Kurapika ran for some form of cover, his cough still tearing at his lungs, again he called the only person he could think of. He stared unblinkingly at the imprint of his weapon on his right hand as he waited for an answer.

_“Master . . .”_

_“Kurapika?”_

_“I . . . need your help. Now. Please. Something happened. I can’t . . .”_ Kurapika had been coughing too much to finish.

_“I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”_

There hadn’t been any further questions. Mizuken had booked a flight to Yorknew immediately, and now here they were.

Realizing he’d probably been dwelling on his thoughts for too long, Kurapika reached for his cell phone again.

Five forty-six AM. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d be late for his first day of training.

* * *

 

Yawning for the tenth time in less than five minutes, Killua struggled to keep his eyes open. The sun had barely risen, masking the night’s stars with a deep blue glow of early morning light. Killua currently sat at a large oak table in Bisky’s dining room. Well, it wasn’t exactly Bisky’s; she was only renting the two-story cabin they’d started staying in. She insisted on training her students in nature, for reasons that Killua didn’t care enough about to remember. So here they were, in a cabin perched on the edge of a mountainous forest, just outside of Yorknew.

And speaking of training, Killua had been focusing more on himself, tailoring his physical and mental exercises specifically to controlling his growing problems. He had recently graduated from destroying light bulbs to short-circuiting kitchen appliances and power lines.

Also; he wasn’t sure if this was a byproduct of his lightening getting farther out of hand, but Killua had started hearing static in his head. A loud, annoying technical buzzing; like a television that refused to work. And the most amazing part was that it never went away. Ever.

Sometimes, the noise would invade even his dreams . . .

Another yawn struck Killua, making him rub his eyes. He was used to being awake at such ungodly hours; he’d been doing it for years alongside Gon . . . But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt this tired. He never used to feel an immediate need for sleep like this . . . until his unhelpful mind started supplying him with never-ending fantasies of a certain blond.

Every single night. For the past week.

Kurapika writhing, wearing nothing but fur-lined handcuffs . . .

The blond mounting him, moaning and screaming as he impaled himself again and again . . .

And Killua’s personal favorite: Kurapika purring with lust and bent over in a revealing school girl’s uniform, complete with tiny pink panties . . .

Each night became more restless than the last. It almost didn’t even matter how much he masturbated. On more than a few occasions, Killua thought of caving in and calling Kurapika, to see if he was still hung-up over the whole Hideki-thing . . . and maybe ask if they could spend another night together. Or a few nights . . .

His already-hard cock pulsed at this interesting thought. Killua continued to hide himself beneath the table, his eyes darting around the room cautiously.

 _“Go away.”_ He thought at his problem, wondering when he’d actually be able to stand without embarrassing himself. Bisky would be downstairs soon, and it was almost six fifteen. He needed to get over himself and make it through the day . . . or puncture his own ear drums, so he might get some peace from the damn static . . .

“You’ve been sitting there for an awfully long time . . .” Gon had appeared from his room on the second story, fully dressed in his normal training attire of a tank top and shorts. He studied Killua as he made his way down the stairs.

A yawn escaped Killua before he could stop it. He then rubbed his temples to hopefully calm the buzzing in his head. It didn’t work. “I’m ok, Gon. Please stop worrying about me.”

“Ok.” Gon answered without any bite. He’d turned toward the kitchen and pulled a box of cereal from a cabinet. “So, are you hungry yet?”

“Not particularly.”

Gon opened his mouth, looking very much like he wanted to comment on how Killua hadn’t eaten in five days. But as their eyes locked, his mouth had closed and he turned his focus on making his own breakfast.

Killua was grateful that Gon was beginning to mind his own business. Sure, he still caught onto the looks of worry and all the unsaid concerns, but Killua appreciated that Gon wasn’t jumping all over him like he tended to do lately.

“Apparently someone destroyed a library in the city a few days ago. It “collapsed in on itself” and burned to the ground . . . in under three minutes.” Gon causally commented as he carried a full bowl of cereal to the table. Thankfully, he sat a chair away from Killua. Absolutely no attention needed to be drawn to Killua’s current issue . . .

“Three minutes . . . so you think someone destroyed it? I’m sure the news told the public it was an accident.” Killua rested his chin on his hand as he thought, feeling grateful for the distraction that naturally willed his erection away.

“Of course. Why cause mass panic?” Gon answered between spoonfuls of cereal. “But pictures from the scene show huge amounts of damage that clearly happened even before the fire started. Shelves and walls were destroyed by force. Support columns were splintered and cracked in half. Computers were scattered in pieces, all over the place. Like a smashed monitor on one end of the building and its motherboard on the other.”

Killua cocked his head, his brows furrowing. “So, how does the whole thing happen in under three minutes? And you’re assuming one person did this?”

Gon gave a thoughtful pause before admitting, “I think a Nen-user would fit the bill.”

“True . . . but why a public library, of all places? If they were looking to cause a scene, they could have gone for a government building or something that would cause a lot more impact.”

Gon shrugged, simply answering, “I think it was an accident. We both know that Nen-users announce themselves in some way when they do things like this. They leave some kind of calling card: a way to let people know it wasn’t just an accident. There was an immediate response from paramedics and firemen, and they said they didn’t see anyone except for innocent victims. Whoever did this was quick about it, and they didn’t want to be found.”

Killua was a bit confused, to say the least. Why would Gon just bring up a hapless mistake like it meant something? “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal, Gon. If it was just an accident, why are we concerning ourselves?”

“I have one more thing I want you to take a look at.” Gon left and had returned with Bisky’s laptop, setting it gently on the table. Opening the internet browser, Gon pulled up a news article with the title “Electrical Fire Destroys Yorknew Public Library” and scrolled down to a few pictures taken of the scene. It was just as Gon described it: torn up woodwork and computers, countless blackened books, fallen support columns splintered and crossed over each other, debris and char marks everywhere. Even the walls of the place were barely existent . . . but most everything else was burnt beyond recognition.

Killua’s eyebrows disappeared behind his silver bangs and he conceded, “Ok. I admit this is a lot of damage for one person to do in under three minutes. But I still don’t get it.”

Gon didn’t roll his eyes or act impatient, as Killua first thought. Instead he remained calm and simply said. “Just keep looking.”

Killua looked over everything again. And again. But the third time he studied each photo, he caught onto something. There was a distinct pattern to the charring on the remains of the building. It was incredibly faint, but once he increased the size of the photos one more time he saw a pattern . . . of chain links. Everywhere, endlessly and precisely winding their way around all the wreckage. The image of chains overlapping each other burned itself into Killua’s vision.

He and Gon exchanged looks, respectively a look of confusion for a look of certainty. After a few moments of nonverbal disagreement, Killua spoke up. “Kurapika had nothing to do with this.”

“I know you can see signs of constriction on the wood. Look at the imprints in the ash.” Raking a hand through black and green spikes, Gon sighed in slight annoyance. “Who else do we know that could do that much damage in such a short amount of time?”

Killua shook his head and looked away. There was a strange sense of panic and worry that bit at his insides as he said. “I don’t believe you. Kurapika wouldn’t do this. There’s no way.”

“But why would he start training with his old Nen master again? For fun?” Gon pointed out, and even Killua had to admit that he found Kurapika’s earlier announcement strange. “Did you ever think it was possible that you aren’t the only one having trouble with your Nen?”

That sentiment made Killua pause. Of course Kurapika wouldn’t endanger innocent people on purpose. And the imprint of the blond’s chains on the burnt wreckage was unmistakable . . . Could it really be that they were both plagued with the same ailment?

“Good morning, boys!” Bisky daintily hopped down the stairs and regarded her students with bright magenta eyes. She was far too effervescent for Killua’s taste, especially when the sun was barely in the sky. “We’re going to move mountains today! Literally.” She added with a devious smirk.

Killua and Gon exchanged a tired look once Bisky had turned her back. Her “new-and-improved” physical training regimen had nearly killed them both on several occasions already. They weren’t sure how much more they could take of Bisky’s adventurous methods . . .

“Oh, Gon! When you’re done there, do a few laps around that little hill for me?” Pointing out the window towards a misty, towering mountain, Bisky’s long blond pigtails swayed as she turned her head and smiled.

Gon simply nodded, and it had only taken him a few more minutes before he was on his way out the back door. Watching his friend’s back through a window as he jogged up the mountainside, Killua huffed and looked to Bisky. “What about me?” he asked in clear disinterest.

Even in the face of Killua’s adversity, Bisky grinned. “You . . . are going to tell me what’s on your mind.”

If Killua hadn’t been completely awake before, he was now. “Eh?”

“You heard me. Now speak.” Bisky’s encroaching insanity must have been getting the better of her. Not once could Killua ever recall her asking such a weird question. Especially to one of her students. It was always “Dig through that mountain” or “Sleep with a boulder hanging over your head”. Never “Talk to me about your feelings” . . .

Killua fought the urge to laugh. For one sleep-deprived moment, he actually toyed with the idea of telling his teacher _exactly_ what was going on . . .

_I have no interest in food, and I’m physically unable to sleep. I destroy just about every piece of technology I come into contact with. My friends won’t get off my back. And by the way, I’m fucking one of those friends. I’m in a friends-with-benefits arrangement with one of my male best friends. Yes, he’s a guy. And I haven’t seen him in so long . . . I need him so much, and it’s so fucking crazy that he makes me feel this way._

Taking a moment to swallow his mental rant so as not to say it out loud, Killua gave Bisky a flat look. “I’d rather not.”

“Your abilities are getting farther and farther out of control, Killua. I mean, I can keep replacing the light bulbs and whatnot, but it’s not healthy for you.” Smoothing down her voluminous pink skirts, Bisky sat in a chair next to Killua and looked him in the eye. “And if you don’t tell me what’s going on, how can I help you?”

“First of all, I don’t see my Nen having any connection to any personal problems I could be having. And second, you really don’t want to know what’s going on. Trust me.” Killua turned away from his teacher with a huff. What right did Bisky have to pry into his life like this?

And still, the woman persisted. Leaning towards her student, she coaxed, “Killua, you’ll feel better if you get these things off your chest-”

“I’ll feel better if everyone just leaves me alone!” Killua nearly shot up from his chair. He may have been physically exhausted, but something he was even more tired of was everyone around him feeling the need to dissect his feelings and pick them apart . . . Couldn’t they just leave him be?

Bisky seemed to back off after Killua’s refusal to talk, and with a slight pout her demeanor changed from open and understanding to commandeering. “Well, since you were asking for something to do . . . your next assignment is to stand in front of a full body mirror and study your aura.”

Killua outright glared. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Bisky snapped while standing and placing her gloved hands on her hips. “Now go on. If you actually pay attention, you might even learn something.”

Killua moved to get out of the chair he’d been sitting in, but stopped when he noticed Bisky openly staring at his legs. “What now?” he growled.

Bisky looked dumbfounded as she started out, “Um, not that it isn’t an interesting look for you . . . But I don’t remember you ever doing that before.”

Looking down, Killua noticed that his legs were indeed primly and effeminately crossed. The sight reminded him of Kurapika for the briefest second, but he quickly separated them with a surprised jolt. He walked away before Bisky had the chance to criticize him again.

He knew of a large, full body mirror in the upstairs bathroom he and Gon shared, so he figured that was a better place to start then anything. As he stared his reflection down, Killua immediately saw the dark circles beneath his eyes and the way his body was slightly slumped over as he stood. He really did look drained.

One of the five light bulbs in the bathroom combusted in a flash of light as Killua continued to study himself. With a sigh and a loud curse, he rolled his eyes and subconsciously reached up to pinch his earlobe. As if there was a dangling ruby earring there to fidget with . . .

Taking the hand away from himself and touching his fingertips to the cool glass, Killua desperately looked himself in the eye. What was going on? Weren’t things supposed to be getting better? Wasn’t he supposed to be happier now?

And even through all his other problems, all he could do was think of Kurapika. Worry about him. Did he really single-handedly demolish that library? And why?

* * *

 

Kurapika tried not to show how tired he was as he exited a public bus that had taken him just outside Yorknew’s city limit. Mizuken had said they would meet here at around six thirty. Burying his freezing hands in his jacket pockets, Kurapika tried to ignore how cold and cloudy that particular day was turning out to be.

“Have trouble waking up this morning?” a scruffy older man dressed in tan robes was suddenly at Kurapika’s side, looking down at him with a lopsided grin.

Kurapika had leapt back nimbly a couple feet, keeping his distance while giving his teacher a sharp look. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“A few years of distance and you think it’s ok to sass your teacher.” Mizuken chuckled. It wasn’t long before he’d slipped away again and seemed to materialize behind his student. Kurapika caught Mizuken in the moment before he’d exposed himself, his arm darting out to counter the hand that would have most likely knocked him out.

This was what Kurapika appreciated most about Mizuken: the man always took their training very seriously. In the beginning so many years ago, Mizuken would render Kurapika unconscious at least once a day, until Kurapika became strong and wise enough to fight back. Not once did Kurapika regret those days; they were stepping stones that got him to where he was now.

At the present, Kurapika was slowly forcing Mizuken to focus solely on his offense with swift, continuous blows. Not giving Mizuken even one spare second to gain the upper hand always seemed to be effective. Kurapika stayed in close combat with him, searching for the familiar break in Mizuken’s concentration. Fists aimed with precision were expertly blocked, and legs darted out in powerful kicks that would shatter bone if not countered correctly.

Kurapika was suddenly caught off guard by one of those kicks. The blow landed hard on his chest, and his breath was knocked from him for only a fraction of a second before he regained his senses and whipped his Dowsing Chain at Mizuken. It only took one solid yank to bring the immobilized man down after the chain had swung itself around him.

The Nen master coughed as he lay constricted on the ground, and Kurapika responded by relentlessly tightening the chain around him. Choking and sputtering for a few more moments, Mizuken must have understood he wouldn’t get out of his current situation alive, or at least conscious. He then showed Kurapika a hand gesture of spread index and middle fingers: their own sign of a concluded sparring session.

The blond retracted his chain and raised an eyebrow at his master. “Are you sure it’s me that’s become arrogant with age? Our matches used to last much longer than this.”

Mizuken got to his feet and rubbed an arm, obviously feeling bruises forming from the chains. “This was only for evaluating your skill level. And you’re frightfully strong.”

Kurapika fought a blush at such a blatant compliment, something he’d rarely received from Mizuken. “Thank you, Master . . . But what makes you say that?”

“You’re more confident with your power. Instead of trying to distract or wear your opponent down like you would usually do, you just went straight for the kill, so to speak. And, in that sense, your fighting style has gotten darker and more underhanded. Not that that’s a bad thing. It can definitely be used to your advantage, but it should be kept in check.”

Kurapika hadn’t noticed himself that his methods had changed. Although, the adjectives Mizuken used . . . “darker, underhanded” . . . sounded very much like the one person Kurapika couldn’t get off his mind.

As soon as thoughts of Killua entered his head, a painful screech of static cut through them. Wincing with a hiss, Kurapika clutched his head and nearly cursed under his breath.

The constant noise had suddenly seemed to go out of its way to cause Kurapika pain in that moment. And it had worked: the sound reverberated in his skull, making him have to lean against something for support. In this case, it was a mossy tree trunk.  Still cradling his head and waiting out the pain, Kurapika almost couldn’t believe this was happening to him. The very essence of his life energy was slipping from his control, and still he had no idea why.

“I just don’t understand what’s going on . . .” Kurapika admitted wearily, opening one eye to see Mizuken carefully watching him. “I should explain . . . that the reason I wanted you to train me again is because . . . I’m losing control, Master.”

Mizuken didn’t physically react. He only asked, “How so?”

The white noise started to fade to its usual background din, and Kurapika was able to concentrate again. “My chains conjure themselves. They bind me against my will and destroy things . . . I can’t make them stop. What if Chain Jail activates and hurts someone? I just couldn’t bear that . . .”

Mizuken blinked at his student’s self-destructive statement, “Not to mention, you’d die in the process.”

Ignoring Mizuken, Kurapika shook his head. “If anything were to happen to Ki- my friends, because of this . . . because of me. I don’t know if I could live with that knowledge.”

“Hey. You remember what we always talked about?”

Kurapika couldn’t bring himself to look at his master as he recited, “. . . Suicide is the very last resort.”

“ _Ever_. You hear me? Real warriors don’t kill themselves if they have a choice.” The slight anger in Mizuken’s voice was enough to put Kurapika on edge.

He responded to his Nen master with an almost-glare. “I have people I want to protect. If I have to, I’ll end my life to make sure they’re safe.”

“And I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help both you and them.” Mizuken answered with a gentle, yet warning tone. “But I’m not sure I understand what’s wrong. The more information you give me about this, the more I might be able to help. Can you tell me anything else?”

“I-” _have a lover, and I’ve been picking up his physical habits. Apparently, even my style of combat is being affected by him. Would that have anything to do with it?_

Kurapika blinked. Where on earth had that thought come from? And was he really about to say that in front of Mizuken?

Absolutely not.

Mizuken, however, was staring at Kurapika as if he’d grown a second head. “You . . . ?” he repeated, gesturing with a hand to coax Kurapika into finishing his sentence.

“. . . If I have any other information for you, I’ll let you know immediately. But at the moment, this is all I have.” Kurapika lied with the straightest face he could.

Looking completely unconvinced for only a fraction of a second, Mizuken pulled a smile out of thin air and said, “Well then, using your abilities seems to help calm them; I can see your aura acting less sporadic. So, let’s start with that.”

Kurapika and Mizuken found themselves sparring for the fifth time that morning. Of course, Kurapika had found a way to win every time, but his teacher was still hopeful in finding an advantage against his more powerful student.

“You don’t study your aura much, do you?” Mizuken managed to ask as he caught a chain that had darted towards his face.

“I’ve never had to before. So no.” Even though his teacher was only the second person to ask him this, Kurapika found himself getting annoyed by the question. Blocking Mizuken’s attacks with three different parries, two with each arm and the third with a leg, Kurapika in turn asked, “Why is it so important?”

“Well, you never know.” Mizuken shrugged as they briefly paced around each other. “Sometimes it’s worth taking a look.”

Displaying his first two fingers, Kurapika scowled. “Why are you the second person to tell me this? Does my aura look different?”

Dropping his fighting stance, Mizuken answered with a puzzled expression, “You can’t see it?”

Kurapika’s heart thundered in his chest. Was he finally close to getting answers? “Please. Tell me what you see.”

Mizuken went silent for a moment, and then couldn’t help but shrug with a shake of his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

* * *

 

Killua could see the light of early afternoon coating the hallway outside the bathroom door, and still he was no closer to figuring himself out. He’d been standing in front of the mirror for hours. And still, all he saw was a plain, blank aura surrounding his body. He didn’t see anything, if Bisky was telling him to look for something in it.

Maybe that wasn’t what she meant, but it was all Killua could think to do.

However, there were times Killua saw something shimmer every now and again. It could be his eyes starting to tire from staring for so long, but some part of him said it was something different. Something . . . alive?

Killua was having a hard time believing himself. What was he doing, staring at himself in the mirror for hours and accomplishing nothing? Two more light bulbs had popped and their remains piled in the sink below as Killua became more upset.

He heard Bisky call out his name in worry, but he ultimately decided to ignore her.

He was so tired of his life being so complicated. Why did he have to worry so much about emotions, people, exploding light bulbs, and annoying fucking head-static? Couldn’t he just forget everything and relax, if only for a short while?

Kurapika immediately came to mind. If there was ever a time for Killua to see the blond, it was now. And Killua also had this strangely innate feeling that Kurapika was just as stressed as he was; he wasn’t sure how he knew, but he just did. Pulling out his cell phone, that remained surprisingly undamaged despite his issues with technology, he texted Kurapika.

_Been kind of stressed lately. Can I see you?_

* * *

 

Kurapika had been taking a short break from sparring with Mizuken. After the Nen master refused to answer his question about his aura, Kurapika proceeded to take his frustration out on their training.

He had used up the better part of his strength and was soon slumped against a tree, taking small sips of water to try and soothe his nauseous stomach. He wasn’t sure why, but the more he used his Nen, the more he found himself feeling tired and sick. And although he hadn’t been sweating throughout his training with Mizuken, he now had cold beads of moisture forming on his face. His breathing had become shallow, and an encroaching headache stirred in his temples. Closing his eyes to relieve some of the pain, Kurapika focused on steadying his breath.

“You don’t look all that great.” Mizuken observed as he stood at his student’s side. “Maybe we should continue this tomorrow.”

Kurapika looked at his teacher with a slight wince as he held his head. “But Master-”

“You’re obviously exhausted. I won’t allow you to overwork yourself like this.” Gently taking Kurapika’s arm, Mizuken helped the younger man to his feet. “We can continue tomorrow. But right now, you should go home and try to get some rest.”

The world spun slightly and Kurapika swallowed, to keep himself from retching. “But what if-?”

“Everything will be fine. I think you’re too worn out for your aura to surprise you.” A hand on Kurapika’s shoulder supported him as Mizuken guided him back in the direction of the highway. “Can you stand on your own?”

A sharp sway was Mizuken’s answer. Cradling his head again, Kurapika blinked and tried to right himself. “It hasn’t even been a few hours. I’m not sure why I’m so tired . . .”

Holding Kurapika securely, Mizuken reasoned. “Your chains’ little outbursts have probably been draining you. After a solid night’s sleep, you should feel better.”

Kurapika’s fatigued mind started to stray . . . to thoughts of Killua, no less. Why would he be thinking of him at a time like this? Didn’t he want Killua to stay away for his own good? No matter how much Kurapika missed him . . .

A chime sounded loudly on Kurapika’s cell phone, and Mizuken reached into the pocket of his student’s jacket to retrieve it.

“Wait!” Kurapika managed, weakly stretching an arm out. “Please let me . . .”

 Kurapika was sure Mizuken was giving him an odd look as he took the device. Opening it, Kurapika had to blink a few times to clear his vision before he saw anything. And to his horror, there was a text from Killua:

_Been kind of stressed lately. Can I see you?_

Kurapika’s eyes widened and he lost his footing, nearly falling again. “Please . . . give me a moment.” he frailly insisted, and Mizuken stopped.

_No. I don’t want to hurt you._

After sending his reply, Kurapika started trying to walk on his own, which he did somewhat successfully under Mizuken’s watchful eye. Thankfully, the man’s car was parked along the road that led back to the city. Another sharp sway rocked Kurapika’s vision, and he was unsure if he could stay awake for much longer.


	9. Chapter 9

Killua was far too tense as he waited outside Kurapika’s apartment. There was no way in hell he was going to accept the blond’s cryptic message and do nothing, especially not after what Gon told him about the library. When he’d arrived at Kurapika’s building, he’d sensed no presence inside apartment 109. So he stayed and waited, figuring Kurapika would have to come home eventually.

He couldn’t describe the panic and urgency that raced through his blood when he’d received the blond’s text: _“No. I don’t want to hurt you”_ . . . Killua had walked right out the front door of Bisky’s cabin, without caring that the woman herself silently watched him leave. Any other time, he would have questioned just why Bisky obviously let him go, but the nightmare of Kurapika turning up dead overshadowed every other possible thought.

What if Kurapika really was responsible for the library?

Before he could entertain that idea any further, a shrill cry of static sliced through his temples and nearly brought Killua to his knees. Holding his head with his eyes squeezed shut, Killua quietly waited out the pain, as he had already done countless times before. When he was able to open his eyes again, dizziness blurred his vision and he leaned against the wall behind him, his spread palms helping him to stand his ground. Strangely enough, it was a powerful feeling akin to the effects of blood loss.

But why?

Killua’s equilibrium evened out after a few more minutes and the static had quieted back to its usual drone. With a brief shake of his head, he stood normally, but not without noticing slivers of translucent glass at his feet. Great, more combusting light bulbs . . .

And if Gon was right, Killua wasn’t the only one destroying Yorknew.

The sun was high overhead when Killua finally sensed Kurapika’s aura heading up the metal stairs. Relief was his initial reaction, but it was short-lived and quickly replaced with the bottom of his world falling out.

The blond’s aura was barely detectible, and he was being carried by an older man, whose aura Killua didn’t recognize.

Killua’s claws were out in a heartbeat. His immediate instinct was to accost this man on the stairs, but what if he dropped Kurapika in the process? The Kuruta’s aura was so very weak . . . The fall would most likely cause serious damage. Activating his Zetsu and holding himself back until the man was at least off the stairs, Killua darted up to him and then revealed his aura.

“What have you done to Kurapika?” Killua growled lowly, his claws poised at the man’s throat.

A middle-aged man with tanned skin and short brown hair tightened his hold on the blond while freezing in place, blurting out, “Nothing.”

“What is he to you?”

“He’s my student. I taught him Nen about five years ago.”

One silver eyebrow quirked, but Killua did not take his claws away. Just seeing how limp and lifeless Kurapika looked as he hung in the older man’s arms . . . It was infuriating. “Your name?”

Dark, nervous-looking eyes darted around, as if the man thought someone else might be watching them, before he answered, “Mizuken. How do you know Kurapika?”

“That shouldn’t be your main concern right now.” Anger and worry yanked at something in the middle of Killua’s chest. He thought about slicing through the man’s neck and taking Kurapika away from him.

“Do I get to know your name?” Came a slightly frustrated question. Mizuken and Killua exchanged obvious looks of distrust before Killua ignored him again.

Pressing a single claw of his stiffened hand to the man’s neck, Killua allowed a bead of blood to bubble on tanned skin. Mizuken swallowed thickly, and Killua could swear he heard the man’s frantic pulse and felt the way his blood raced. “What happened to him? You have three seconds to tell me.”

“He can’t control his abilities, and they wore him out. That’s really all I know.” Mizuken said in a rush without daring to move. “I’ve been studying Nen my whole life. And I’ve never seen something like this before.”

Killua gave a low hum in his throat, feeling satisfied with the answer for now. He withdrew his claws from Mizuken, and switched his gaze from the older man to the blond in his arms.

“Are you going to tell me your name or not?” Mizuken almost demanded once the immediate threat of Killua’s claws was removed.

After studying the clammy pallor of Kurapika’s skin and feeling another flare of anger, Killua turned away and said. “We need to get him inside. He keeps his apartment key in the front right pocket of his jeans.”

The look of surprise on Mizuken’s face when they found the key right where Killua said it was, was admittedly priceless. Killua’s eyes darted up and down the man’s form once more, still unsure if he was reliable, before they let themselves in.

As they entered the little apartment, a sudden spike of emotion told Killua he didn’t appreciate the way Mizuken was holding Kurapika. Easily taking the blond into his own arms despite Mizuken’s dumbstruck look, Killua headed to Kurapika’s bedroom without a second thought.

Laying him down on the bed as gently as possible, Killua cursed under his breath and hissed, “He’s freezing.” A surge of rage welled in his chest at the man who brought Kurapika here. How could Mizuken let him get like this?

Bundling the Kuruta in the blankets on his once neatly-made bed, Killua settled a scrutinizing gaze on the older man. “How did this happen?”

Awkwardly entering his student’s bedroom, Mizuken looked everywhere but at Killua as he said, “I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong. But, he wants me to help him, and I’ll do everything in my power to try.”

“What are the symptoms?”

Mizuken seemed to anxiously clear his throat before answering. “His chains have been conjuring themselves, and seem to act on their own free will. Once they take control, they apparently do a great deal of damage. And he’s powerless to stop them.”

This information made Killua pause. It almost would have shocked him had he not been practically expecting it. So Gon was right; they were both having trouble controlling their abilities. Even though the results were on a much different scale from each other, the principle was still the same. But, why were the consequences so much more severe for Kurapika? Was Mizuken possibly to blame? “What you’re saying doesn’t explain why I can barely sense his Nen. If you have anything to do with this-”

“Will you calm down? Getting angry won’t help anyone.” Mizuken finally snapped with a scowl. “And as for his Nen, I only have a guess. I figure that in order for his chains to act on their own, they’re drawing energy from him and draining him.”

That seemed acceptable. Killua could see how conjured items could use more Nen than something like his lightening; which was only transmuted Hatsu and not meant to take a completely tangible form. Taking one last look at Kurapika’s Nen master, Killua decided he’d gotten all the useful information he could from the man and said, “I can take care of him from here.”

Mizuken sent Killua a piercing, almost-glare. “You’re being awfully secretive. Not giving your name or saying how you know my student. How can I be sure you’re trustworthy?”

“How dare you . . .” Killua bowed his head, feeling himself bristle with rage. “How dare you assume I’ll harm him once you leave. If he’d stayed with you, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened.” Killua faced a stunned-looking Mizuken once he looked back up. “You’re his teacher, and he trusts you. I can’t help that . . . but I swear, if you don’t protect him . . . You’ll pay with your life.” Killua turned his attention back to Kurapika, hoping that Mizuken would eventually take the hint.

“I doubt you care, but my number is in his phone if anything happens.” Another distrusting, icy blue gaze was shot Mizuken’s way before the Nen master silently let himself out.

Killua exhaled in relief as he saw the color coming back into the blond’s face. His breathing was also evening out. Good; Kurapika was making a fairly quick recovery.

Guilt and fear ate at Killua’s insides. If only he had known about what was happening earlier . . . But regardless, what could he have done? He was a victim himself. He hardly had a clue how to get himself under control; how could he help Kurapika?

Frustration crawled down Killua’s throat and settled with the guilt and worry in his stomach. He couldn’t help but ask himself why. Why was this happening to the both of them? He studied the blond’s sleeping face, trying to ignore how tired he suddenly felt. There was so much information to take in and process . . . how could Killua hope to understand it all?

Without thinking, Killua reached down to smooth back a few errant strands of Kurapika’s blond hair. Within that brief moment of contact, shock darted down his spine and the inability to breathe flooded his lungs. His pulse hammered in his ears as something strong and numbing flowed through his blood. Although Killua knew painkillers had no effect on him; that was the only thing he could compare the sensation to. It was as if he’d been injected with morphine.

And then, Killua felt the constant, restless buzz of static in his head settle . . . and go quiet.

Silence. Nothing. No sound, not even the tiniest buzz. For the first time in two weeks, Killua’s mind was completely silent and static-free. And before he could form another thought, a sudden exhaustion pulled him straight to the mattress beneath him.

* * *

 

Kurapika woke in his own apartment. He found himself feeling warm and well-rested, which was rare for him nowadays. Instead of immediately sitting up, he lingered in bed a while longer with his eyes closed.

The last thing he could remember was driving back to the city in Mizuken’s car, and feeling extraordinarily tired and dizzy. It stood to reason that his teacher left him at his apartment to rest until tomorrow. At least he was home and safe for now . . .

As Kurapika took a deep breath and turned his face into his blankets, he caught a foreign scent on the fabric that nearly made him jump; the light, yet heady smell of soap and something metallic. He knew this scent far too well . . .

Kurapika’s heart was in his throat as he realized who was sleeping beside him.

“Killua.” He breathed without being able to help himself, and blue eyes snapped open. Killua had been on his side, facing Kurapika as he slept near the edge of the bed. They both stared wordlessly at each other until Killua gently reached out to rest the backs of his fingers against Kurapika’s cheek.

“How are you feeling?” came a soft, concerned voice.

“You shouldn’t be here. I could hurt you.” Kurapika quietly warned, trying to back away from the younger man’s touch.

Killua didn’t move away, nor did he try to keep Kurapika in place. He just continued to stare deep into panicked hazel eyes. “The library . . . that was you, wasn’t it?”

“It was an accident. I swear I would never . . .” Kurapika whispered, his throat sounding suddenly raspy.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe now.” One of Killua’s arms encircled him and pulled him close as they continued to lay together. Kurapika’s head was pressed gently to Killua’s chest, and the younger man then laid his chin atop the blond’s head. “When that man carried your lifeless body up here, I couldn’t think . . . I nearly killed him.”

Kurapika was surprised by the touch at first, but then he curled into Killua’s embrace, breathing in his scent and feeling oddly protected. Even the fact that Killua almost murdered his Nen master didn’t bother him as much as it should have. “You were waiting for me?”

“Of course. I wasn’t going to take that cryptic message you sent me laying down.” Killua admitted. “And after Gon told me about the library, I figured there was some kind of connection.”

“So Gon knows, too . . .” Kurapika mumbled with a small amount of shame in his voice.

“From what I understand, it was kind of a big deal.”  A dry chuckle reverberated in Killua’s throat. Kurapika felt the younger man breathe deeply against his hair before he murmured, “Is it bad that I find your power sexy?”

Kurapika immediately opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his tongue as he felt a familiar hardness against one of his thighs. As quickly as he felt it, it was taken away, and Killua sat on the edge of the bed with his back turned to the blond. “That was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, it’s not. You’re scared, and here I am making shameless advances.”

Silence settled thickly between them. What would Killua say if Kurapika told him his advances weren’t as unwelcome as he thought? Of course, Kurapika had been afraid that there would be more chaos where his aura was concerned; but for some strange reason, now it was tame. He even stopped hearing the incessant static in his head. Ever since he woke up, Kurapika noticed all the stress and pressure from the weeks before were gone, and he felt normal; so very in control once more.

But why now? For nearly two weeks, his grip on his aura had been slipping. He was becoming a threat to the public, and to himself. It was endangering his life . . . up until now, that was. All his problems seemed to vanish without a trace in less than a day. But, there was one detail that Kurapika was overlooking. Although, his idea did seem farfetched . . .

Did it have anything to do with Killua’s presence?

Speaking out of deductive reasoning, this made sense. Kurapika had already caught himself imitating the younger man multiple times; it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to assume Killua was affecting other things in his life . . . But his Nen? Really?

Drawing from what Kurapika knew of Nen, Killua couldn’t have been causing this. It was such a bizarre notion: one person’s life energy being directly affected by the presence of another. Each individual’s Nen is separate and unique; they just weren’t made to mix.

But that didn’t explain how Kurapika’s aura became so docile practically overnight.

And Killua seemed to be the only known variable that had any effect. Or maybe the whole thing was all just a huge coincidence. Kurapika didn’t have enough information to be completely sure . . .

The blond found himself sitting up to reach out and touch Killua’s shoulder. The younger man didn’t react for a few long moments, but eventually he turned his head a fraction. One sharp blue eye studied Kurapika. “Have you eaten at all today? I can order something.”

Although he expected the subject change, Kurapika gave a soft frown. “You don’t have to spend money.”

“Oh, please. I have enough of the stuff.” Killua rolled his eyes good-naturedly with a grin. “Just think of it as the beginning of me repaying you.”

Killua’s crooked smile caused a pang in Kurapika’s heart, and before he knew it heat had spread on his face. Killua was at Kurapika’s side in an instant and feeling his forehead, his own features creased with worry. “Don’t tell me you have a fever. That damn teacher of yours . . .”

Having Killua so close again made the blond’s heart palpitate and his chest tighten. Kurapika wanted to lean into the palm on his forehead, but he resisted. “Killua, I’m fine. And, I suppose I should ask . . . You met Mizuken?”

Killua’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the man. “I don’t like him. He’s irresponsible.”

Pushing Killua’s hand away from him, Kurapika responded with a disapproving look, “How can you say that? You barely know him.”

Killua gave a rather haughty ‘tch’ before retorting, “I don’t have to know him to think how he handled you was irresponsible.”

Kurapika felt his eyes narrow at this. “Handled me?”

“You were unconscious when he brought you here. Your Nen was practically nonexistent. I almost took you to a hospital to have you looked at.” Killua paused, seeming to rethink his statement. “But maybe all you needed was rest . . . You feel perfectly normal now.”

“I feel fine, and I’d rather not go to a hospital. Besides, the closest one is supposedly where . . .” Kurapika trailed off, awkwardly meeting Killua’s gaze.

Killua lightly tugged on his hair as he looked away with an uncomfortable expression. “Well, he would have helped me chew Mizuken out, at least.”

“Don’t give my Nen master such a hard time.” Kurapika lightly chastised, grateful that they were steering away from the topic of the man Leorio tried to set him up with. “I’m feeling better now, aren’t I?”

Giving the blond a hard look, Killua fought the urge to roll his eyes, “Yeah, for now. But you don’t know if this will happen again.”

“You’re right.” Kurapika folded his hands in his lap, staring down at them morosely. “Everything feels calm now, but my aura could act up again at any time, for all I know . . . Are you sure you even want to be here? With me being so unstable?”

With a slight turn of his head, Killua raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “So, you’re telling me you want me to leave you to suffer by yourself?”

“I don’t want to put you in any danger.”

“Do you remember who I’ve been hanging out with for the past six years?”

“Someone who could bind you, force you into Zetsu, and kill you?” Feeling the slightest bit of self-loathing, Kurapika couldn’t bring himself to look Killua in the eye anymore. “I didn’t think so.”

“You don’t have to be like that . . . I’d like to think I might be just a bit faster than your chains.” Killua irritably added.

“Speed only gets you so far, Killua.” Kurapika quietly countered.

Killua leaned an elbow on one knee and admitted, “It would hurt you and I would hate doing it, but if worse came to worse, I could knock you out with Lightening Palm.”

Kurapika crossly tucked a bit of hair behind his ear. “Why do you insist on arguing with me?”

“I’m not sure . . .”

After Killua trailed off, a sudden thought occurred to Kurapika. It nearly had him blushing in embarrassment and he hastily turned to Killua. “Does Mizuken know?”

“About what?”

“About us.”

Killua scoffed. “Don’t say it like that, it’s weird.”

“You and I, then.” Kurapika impatiently rolled his eyes. “Does he know?”

Killua responded with a slow shake of his head. “What makes you think I would tell him?”

“I just want to be sure.”

Kurapika couldn’t think of anything to proceed that topic with, so he remained silent. It was then that he heard the soft patter of rain outside his bedroom window. In retrospect, it had looked rather cloudy that morning. Of course it had to rain-

Kurapika was taken by surprise with a kiss. He leaned into it immediately, finding that he sorely missed the sweet, metallic flavor of Killua’s lips. The blond was the first to open his mouth and sweep his tongue across Killua’s bottom lip. Just as Kurapika felt Killua’s mouth respond, the younger male pulled away.

With the tiniest whine of disappointment, the Kuruta opened his eyes to find Killua looking cautious and guarded. “On second thought, maybe it’s not the greatest idea for me to stay with you. I mean, after what happened, I feel like you should be resting. And if I stay here, we might . . .”

“Will you stop that?” Kurapika averted his gaze, fidgeting with an earring as frustration crept into his chest, “Did I say “no” or “stop”? Don’t make decisions for me like you know what I’m thinking.”

“Ok,” Killua conceded as he tried to look Kurapika in the eye. “Tell me how you’re feeling. _Honestly_. If you’re absolutely sure you’re going to be ok with this, then I’ll stay. If not, I’ll leave.”

Another stretch of time drug on, with Killua staring at Kurapika and the latter staring down at mussed bed sheets. The subdued sound of rain continued on in the background, a strangely fitting ambience to the stale silence between them.

“I wouldn’t make you go out in the rain like that.” The blond eventually spoke, still not looking up. Something primeval and instinctual, deep within the recesses of his mind, told him that he wanted Killua to stay. But why, when he had been so vehemently protesting it not moments ago? Overwhelming warmth had taken hold of Kurapika’s heart as crimson flooded his face. He felt the need to shake his head, as if to physically rid himself of unwanted thoughts.

Kurapika didn’t understand himself anymore. For so many years his goal and purpose were clear: defeat the Spiders and reclaim his peoples’ eyes. And nearing the end of that goal had already been disorienting enough without throwing any more obstacles in the way. But now, when he thought all his troubles were almost over, Kurapika was facing one of the most confusing challenges he’d ever been presented with.

And that challenge was named Killua Zoldyck.

Just the younger male’s presence, and the way his clear blue eyes could see right through him . . . they were enough to drive Kurapika mad with both insanity and passion. Why was he letting one person do this to him? He was supposed to be an impenetrable force; untouchable and more than strong enough to complete his goal. He was three pairs of eyes away from being able to bury his past for good. And yet, here he was melting and becoming vulnerable under that piercing, searching blue gaze.

And even stranger still, Kurapika had to force himself to see the wrong in that.

Uncertainty crossed Killua’s features again. He glanced out the window at the light rainfall for a few moments, before looking back at Kurapika. His eyebrows knitted together as he seemed to fight with himself.

Kurapika hated how suddenly _ashamed_ Killua looked. Without being able to help himself, he said, “I’m not sure why, but right now I feel as if I never lost control in the first place. And there was this . . . sound in my head. Like static. I’ve been hearing it for weeks, and it seemed to be associated with everything. But for some reason, now . . . it’s gone, as well.”

Disbelief was thrown into the vast mix of emotions in Killua’s eyes. The younger man opened his mouth, taking a deep breath and looking ready to admit something, before simply sighing and looking away. What he wanted to say, Kurapika could barely hazard a guess. But what he did know what that Killua was seconds away from walking out the front door. And for reasons he still didn’t completely understand, he could barely fathom the younger man leaving now.

“Please stay with me.” Kurapika heard himself implore before he even thought about it.

 “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” A silver head gave the tiniest shake.

“Killua, please.”

“I just . . . Things are really complicated right now. I don’t know . . . I’m just confused.” Killua’s frown deepened, but Kurapika could see his walls starting to crumble.

“About what? I thought things between us were simple.”

Although the movement was faint, Kurapika saw Killua flinch at the word “us” just before he turned away to stare at the hardwood floor in front of him. “It’s not about that. It’s just . . . I’d rather not talk about it. Is that ok?”

The nature of their agreement came flooding back to Kurapika all at once as he watched Killua react so negatively to such a simple statement. He refused to let the anguish it brought reach his eyes. He had to provide some sort of distraction, for the both of them.

“We don’t have to talk about anything.” Kurapika reassured, his voice coming out sultrier than he’d intended. He could have sworn he heard Killua’s breathing quicken as he got to his knees and crawled across the bed. Wrapping his arms around Killua’s shoulders from behind, he pressed a kiss to the younger man’s neck, “You won’t disappear if I go shower, will you?”

Killua’s already rigid form stiffened further. “I don’t know . . .”

“Then I’ll just have to take you with me.” Kurapika had to stifle a laugh when he felt Killua’s whole body react to his statement with a tiny jolt. “You act like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

 A spectacular blush colored Killua’s face and neck as he mumbled, “I technically haven’t. Not completely, anyway . . .”

“We should change that now.” The bold suggestion was whispered in Killua’s ear.

And Killua in turn was reduced to a completely red, stuttering mess. His wide blue eyes were glued to the floor, and for a moment he looked so much younger than he really was. Kurapika thought it was adorable; Killua obviously wasn’t accustomed to the blond taking control.

Kurapika couldn’t name the last time he’d been this pleased with his handiwork where the younger man was concerned. He got off the bed to stand before Killua, a hand outstretched towards him. “Just follow my lead.” Kurapika coaxed with what he hoped was an enticing smirk.

Killua still seemed unable to look up. “I, um . . .”

Trying a different approach, Kurapika got down on his knees in front of Killua, stroking a firm, slender thigh as he purred, “What happened to the Killua that did what he wanted with me? The one that was so eager to have me?”

Complete silence was Killua’s response.

“Don’t you want to take me again? To have me moaning and screaming beneath you . . . begging you to fuck me harder . . .”

Killua had lowered his head at that point, his silver bangs hiding his eyes from view.

Kurapika suddenly feared he went too far. Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, he began, “Killua, I-”

In one of the fastest fluid movements he’d ever experienced, Killua had lifted Kurapika off the floor and was holding him effortlessly in his arms, the blond’s legs spread and flanking each side of Killua’s waist. Resting his spinning head one of the younger male’s shoulders, Kurapika closed his eyes and caught his breath.

“This is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

Before Kurapika could ask what that meant, Killua was greedily claiming his lips.

Outright moaning against the younger man’s mouth, Kurapika arched his back as blood pooled in his abdomen. Open-mouthed and desperate, the two men kissed and clawed at each other’s clothes. Killua had pressed the blond against the nearest wall to free one of his hands, deftly working the button and zipper of the older male’s jeans open. Kurapika curled his fingers under the hem of Killua’s tank top, lifting it up while feeling firm muscles beneath smooth, pale skin.

Gods, he’d missed this . . .

Kurapika gave a muffled yelp around Killua’s tongue when the hand that still supported him slipped into the back of his jeans and squeezed his behind. He promptly broke the kiss, panting out, “Wait . . . I should shower. I was training this morn-”

Killua kissed him deeply before countering, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“But I’d rather be cle-!” Kurapika’s words trailed off into a rather undignified squeak as Killua’s other hand caressed his erection through his boxers.

“We’re about to get dirty anyway . . . what’s the big deal?” Killua laughed, his voice far too low for Kurapika to stay focused. The younger man easily worked the blond’s jeans and boxers off as he continued to fondle his ass.

Kurapika pushed his hips into the rough way Killua was gripping him, a pleased whine escaping his throat. “I want you, but . . .” he murmured, unsure if he even wanted to finish his sentence. Killua saved him the trouble by pulling him in for another demanding kiss.

Shivering at the sound of Killua undoing his own pants, Kurapika keened at the sensation of a hot erection pressing against his bare skin. The younger male seemed to take his time in sneaking his free hand under Kurapika’s shirt, feeling his torso in a deliberately torturous way. Killua’s fingertips glided and danced over Kurapika’s skin, leaving a prickling trail of heat that only stoked the throbbing between his legs. Killua then splayed his palm flat against the blond’s stomach before sliding it lower, and lower . . . Kurapika pushed himself into Killua’s hand, wanting and craving what would come next. Just a bit lower . . .

Killua abruptly changed course, his hand traveling back upwards. Kurapika nearly whined in frustration, throwing his head back against the wall he was pinned to. He paid the resulting ache no mind as he locked gazes with Killua. “How can you take your time like this?”

What was left of Kurapika’s last shred of sense was thrown into disarray at the enigmatic mischief sparkling in lust-blown blue eyes. “It’s barely two in the afternoon. And considering that we were both supposed to be training today, we wouldn’t make other plans. Which means . . .” An eager mouth leaned in to gently suck at Kurapika’s earlobe, a slightly pointed tongue poking out to play with a ruby earring. “We have all day. And I plan on taking my time with you.”

A jolt of lust shot all the way down to Kurapika’s cock, blinding him from the fact that he didn’t appreciate Killua being sexual with his earrings. Rocking his hips against the male that held him, Kurapika moaned at the resulting friction. The pulsing shaft that had been resting under his backside was now sliding against the sensitive flesh of his entrance. Wetly slipping up and down but never prodding, never entering. It was maddening.

Kurapika found himself desperately squirming in Killua’s arms. He couldn’t help the way his breathing hitched. His whole body felt too hot, and even the light cotton shirt he still wore bothered him. His erection throbbed and his insides convulsed in impatience.

They were going _so_ _slow_ . . .

“I need you . . .” Kurapika could feel his eyes burn as he wrapped his arms around Killua’s neck. “I’ve needed you for so long . . .”

Insistent lips took hold of Kurapika’s and kissed the breath out of him, their tongues tangling deliciously. With a muffled growl, Killua rolled his hips harder against the blond. Kurapika tightened his legs around Killua, loving the way his muscled torso felt between them.

A sudden thought occurred to the blond and he panted against Killua’s lips, “I . . . I bought new lubricant. It’s in the top drawer, just like last time.”

“What happened to taking our time, hm?” Killua’s hot breath washed over Kurapika’s face as he spoke, ceasing the movement of his hips.

“I never agreed to that.” Kurapika felt his dripping erection sticking to his shirt, along with disappointment, when Killua stopped moving. “ _Please_ , Killua . . . Hurry up and take me . . .”

The blond clearly felt Killua shiver when he called his name, and yet his kiss-flushed lips formed a slight frown. “Can we not use our names when we do this? From now on?” his low, rumbling tone made Kurapika tremble with anticipation.

Killua could have asked him to jump off a cliff in that moment, and he would say yes.

“Of course that’s fine, just _please_ hurry.” The words spilled from Kurapika’s mouth before he even thought about stopping himself.

 “God, those eyes of yours . . .” Killua pressed heated kisses to Kurapika’s jawline and pulled a gasp from him for more than one reason. The wet tip of Killua’s cock started prodding his opening, but the second Kurapika felt it, the sensation abandoned him. Before he could voice any objection, Killua kissed his forehead. “Can you hold on for just a little longer?”

Kurapika tried to focus his gaze on the younger male. “W-Why?” he stuttered, slowly losing control of his voice.

Kurapika felt himself being lifted from the wall and then carried across the room as Killua gave a low snicker. “Do you really want me to go in dry?”

A bit of sense returned to Kurapika’s desire-addled mind, and he found himself wrinkling his nose at such an idea. “Just hurry or I’ll do it myself.”

Another quiet, amused laugh rose from Killua’s throat as he set Kurapika down on the bed. The blond rested on his side, laying his spinning head on a pillow. He watched Killua intently, feeling the heat in his eyes and body rise even more, if that was possible. Though Kurapika wasn’t quite sure how, Killua had already retrieved the bottle and was squeezing a generous amount of the liquid onto his fingers.

“You don’t have to prepare me. I’ll be fine.” Kurapika did not recognize the breathy, high-pitched tone of the voice that left him.

“You know I don’t like the thought of hurting you.” With Killua’s affirmation, Kurapika turned onto his back, lifting and spreading his legs to give the younger male better access to his body. His forgotten erection twitched and a strangled, restless noise of longing reverberated in his throat.

“If you don’t do something soon, I might . . .” Kurapika had no idea how he could finish that sentence. He felt so desperately needy. He couldn’t control his breathing or how his voice sounded. He was unbelievably dizzy and his blood thundered in his ears. The hardness between his legs was so hot and overpowering. He’d lost all sense and worse yet, he didn’t _care_. All he knew was that he needed Killua to satisfy him, right here and now. “Killu-”

He was interrupted by sharp teeth that lightly tugged on his bottom lip. Killua was now situated between the blond’s legs and looming over him. As the younger man’s bare thighs brushed his own, Kurapika realized with a thrill that they were both half-naked. After releasing his lip, Killua’s deep, hungry voice shook with desperation in his ear as he purred, “You think I don’t want to have you? To take you while you scream and come undone beneath me?” A feral sound rumbled low in Killua’s chest. “Fuck going slow . . . I need you _now_.”

The younger male’s erection, now slick with lubricant, was eagerly rubbing against Kurapika’s entrance. The blond jumped only a little at the initial sensation, but soon he pressed himself back against the heated organ and moaned loudly. “Please! Don’t hold back . . . I’m ready for you.” He held in another call of Killua’s name and took a deep breath to relax his muscles.

The lust glazing Killua’s eyes was overshadowed for the briefest second by a look that said _if you’re sure_. But the passion soon returned full force; and in one swift movement, Killua was buried deep inside him.

Kurapika couldn’t breathe as the cock in his body stretched him and pulsed. Mentally, he had retracted and panicked at the sensation of being too full; but physically, his body simply let Killua in without any resistance. Once he caught his breath again, the panic waned and he ran his hands up and down Killua’s toned forearms. Looking up, he witnessed the beautiful sight of Killua’s head thrown back in pleasure, his chest heaving and throat moving as he panted.

“A-Are you . . . alright?” the words barely made it past Killua’s lips. “Fuck . . . you feel _so good_ . . .”

They weren’t even moving yet, and the both of them were already falling apart. Kurapika couldn’t deny the sense of completion that flooded him as their hips met, but now he wanted so much more. He purposefully clenched his muscles around Killua, half to entice him into moving and half to watch his reaction. The result was rewarding, to say the least.

Killua instantly fell forward, his head resting on one of Kurapika’s shoulders and his mouth agape. Small, lascivious sounds escaped him with each ragged breath. His hips were trembling; and suddenly, the blond wondered how much self-control Killua really had. Kurapika tightened his muscles again, enjoying the heady sense of power he felt as Killua cried out softly.

“Oh god . . . I’m sorry . . . I need to move!” When Killua pulled his hips back and quickly snapped them forward, Kurapika keened at the feeling of being entered again.

Enjoying every thrust of the frantic pace Killua set, Kurapika could only encourage him. He clutched Killua’s strong arms and shouted out his approval again and again, “Yes! Please, deeper. Harder . . . Oh! Oh yes, _there_!!”

The headboard of the bed rocked loudly into the wall behind it, and the mattress protested the force of Killua’s thrusts. And Kurapika couldn’t give a damn about his neighbors hearing it. He screamed in bliss as Killua abused his prostate. What he wouldn’t give to call Killua’s name just one more time . . . He settled for incoherently babbling as they panted and moved together.

Killua was clinging to Kurapika, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. The blond admired the light pink blush on the younger male’s face and the slight stickiness of sweat on his soft, pale skin. Killua had stayed mostly quiet, except for harsh breathing and a low groan of, “Oh baby, you’re so tight . . .”

A particularly rough thrust had Kurapika threatening to climax. Regardless of the way stars exploded behind his eyelids and the way his body burned with need, he gripped Killua’s shoulders and breathlessly warned, “Oh! Ki- we should slow down . . . Please, I might come . . .”

“It’s ok. Just let it go . . .” Killua redoubled his efforts; and the wet, slick sounds of their bodies connecting ate away at Kurapika’s rationality. He was so close, and Killua had never once touched his erection . . .

A scream tore itself from Kurapika’s throat, and he came so hard his head was spinning. The light behind his closed eyes blinded him and for a moment, all he could do was _feel_ and relish the sensation of Killua still forcing himself into his body. The younger man went faster and harder, working himself to completion. Kurapika gave a low moan; the feeling of Killua still moving within him post-orgasm was arousing in its own interesting way. He almost had another full erection by the time Killua gave a loud gasp.

“That’s it, come for me . . .” Kurapika ran his hands up and down the younger man’s back, urging him on. It was exciting to feel Killua harden further, and the flesh became so much hotter just before he let out a long, low moan. Kurapika moaned in kind when he felt Killua tightly holding his hips and filling him with his release.                                                                       

* * *

 

“He’s gone again, isn’t he?”

Bisky couldn’t ignore the look of pain on Gon’s face. She marked the page of the book she was reading and set it down to look her student in the eye. “Killua is in a very delicate state. And I don’t know how reassuring this will be to you, but he needs this time away right now.”

“Do you even know where he is?” Bisky could tell Gon was holding himself back and trying not to take his irritation out on her.

“No. Not explicitly.”

“Then why are you acting like you know what’s going on?”

“Gon-”

“Why is it that Killua doesn’t even tell me anything anymore? He’s quiet around me now, always avoiding me and looking so fucking _guilty_!” Gon paced like a caged panther, and Bisky found herself helplessly watching him. “I try to tell to him I’m here for him, and then he says everything’s fine and that he’s fine. I know he’s not fine, Bisky . . . but I don’t know how to help him!” Gon resigned himself to sitting on the opposite end of the sofa Bisky was curled up on, folding his hands together in front of his mouth as bright amber eyes stared at the floor in thought.

Bisky had noticed the change in Gon and Killua’s dynamic immediately, when she’d first arrived in the city. They were less comfortable with physical contact now, and always had about a person’s worth of space or more between them. Their conversations seemed more guarded and censored, especially on Gon’s end; there were times when he seemed to walk on egg shells around Killua. They even joked and teased each other less; well, there were rare times when Gon would tease Killua, but Killua just seemed to half-heartedly laugh it off and then keep his usual emotional distance.

At first, Bisky just chalked it up to the two boys having another tiff again, with her being unfortunate enough to have arrived in the middle of one. She learned those little fights of theirs were more common than she thought when she’d started training them on Greed Island so long ago.

But when the tension didn’t stop, and when Killua discreetly requested a regimen separate from Gon’s, it was clear that something was very wrong between them. And Bisky didn’t have the heart to ask what it was.

She had to admit that the saddest thing about all this was the way the boys would look at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. During the short breaks they would take for water or rest, Gon would diligently stare at Killua, as if constantly looking at him would keep him from disappearing. And the few times Killua glanced in Gon’s direction, a pain Bisky never thought she’d witness from him streaked across his blue irises before he looked away.

She would have never thought their relationship would end up this way. The two were always so inseparable and simply, unconditionally there for each other. It made her wonder what exactly happened. Was it really so grave and serious?

Of course Bisky wanted to pick and pry and find out what exactly went wrong in this once-perfect friendship, but she also had enough respect for Gon and Killua to leave them to sorting things out on their own. But what happened between them to cause the obvious, almost-palpable rift that even Bisky felt??

But then again, part of it must have been what was in Killua’s aura. And _that_ was a whole other problem altogether . . .

Turning her attention back to Gon, Bisky said as gently as she could, “I know you care and that you want to help your friend . . . but this is Killua’s battle. He has to do this on his own.”

“I knew it.” Dark, piercing eyes turned themselves on Bisky. “You know something . . . Why won’t you help him?”

“You’re not the only one he’s rejecting. He won’t talk to me, either.” Bisky answered matter-of-factly.

“And now he’s run away again!” Throwing his arms up in the air, Gon continued pacing, “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Short of holding him down and making him listen? Of course not.” Bisky took a brief moment to right herself. Unbridling her own irritation in front of Gon was not making things any better. Rising from her seat to stand next to her student, Bisky placed a small, gentle hand on Gon’s arm to stop his pacing. “He has to get through this on his own. And when he’s ready for help, we’ll be here.”

Gon nodded silently, though even Bisky could see he wasn’t convinced.


	10. Chapter 10

Killua was rudely woken by the bright midday sun hitting his closed, defenseless eyelids. His brows drew together as he tried to turn away from the offending light, but a weight on his left arm stopped him. Blinking his vision into focus, he found Kurapika delicately curled at his side, and his rather messy blond head resting on Killua’s upper arm.

He wasn’t surprised to find himself naked and tangled in bed sheets with the blond. After all, they had been at it _all day_ yesterday . . . in bed, on the sofa, in the shower, you name it. Killua would have never guessed the prim and proper Kurapika he’d known for all these years could be such an _insatiable_ lover. Not that he was complaining . . .

Of course, sex wasn’t the only thing they’d done with each other. They had talked a bit here and there, choosing to keep the conversation light and simple. And Killua had eventually fulfilled his promise of ordering dinner for the both of them. But as the day went on, they found they just couldn’t stay away from each other for very long.

Looking back to his left, Killua’s heart leapt into his throat as he watched the Kuruta sleep. His eyes followed small shoulders, a lean chest, the gradual curve of his waist, and the angle of his hips. Every inch of skin was riddled with red and purple bite-marks of all sizes. The sight of him brought back memories from the night before, and Killua involuntarily shivered. He was nearly hard by the time he forced the thoughts away.

Laying at the older male’s side in silence for a little while longer, Killua began to wonder: Should he leave? He didn’t have to stay, after all. It wasn’t like they were dating, and Killua would prefer to keep it that way.

But . . . why did it feel so wrong to leave without letting Kurapika know? Sparing another glance at the sleeping blond on his arm, Killua felt his heart ache. Kurapika looked so peaceful; maybe Killua just didn’t want to move and risk waking him.

Having this agreement with Kurapika was starting to get . . . confusing. Killua couldn’t understand why his breathing would quicken or why his heart would beat uncontrollably around the blond, even when they weren’t in a sexual situation. Killua would always tell himself he was simply reacting to the passionate memories they’d made together. But when Hideki came along . . . that reasoning didn’t explain how uncontrollably _angry_ and _hurt_ Killua felt that day. And more than once yesterday, he had to stop himself from asking Kurapika if they were still seeing each other.

Because honestly, it wasn’t Killua’s business. Nothing Kurapika did in his personal life was any of his concern if the blond didn’t want to tell him. And that was fair, Killua would tell himself. Because they were friends who just happened to fuck each other. And nothing else.

And on another note, Killua still wasn’t sure what to make of what was happening to his and Kurapika’s Nen. Why did they both seem to malfunction in the way they were? Killua’s lightening going haywire and Kurapika’s chains coming to life by themselves; all at the same time. And they both were hearing the same static-like noise in their heads . . .

Well, they _had_ been. Until it all decided to just disappear yesterday. At around the same time.

But what could Killua possibly say about it that wouldn’t stress Kurapika out further? _Guess what? You and I have both been losing control of our Nen. We’ve had the exact same symptoms within the exact same time frame. Wouldn’t it be crazy if all these things were, oh I don’t know . . . connected?_

Would Kurapika even believe him if Killua spoke his mind? Killua was not proud of himself for essentially taking the coward’s way out and staying silent in the face of overwhelming evidence. But even he was scared of his own conclusion: his and Kurapika’s Nen being _connected_? Was such a thing even possible? It went against everything Killua was ever taught about life energy: Your aura was your own. It was your ethereal fingerprint. Your personal signature. How did it make any sense for Killua to assume they were linked in any way?

Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. It just couldn’t be possible. Maybe it was too early to have a definite answer. Killua would most likely destroy dozens more light bulbs before he found a real explanation . . . and he was ok with that. As long as the end result didn’t involve Kurapika, he would be fine with it.

Because in the deepest parts of his mind, Killua knew the last thing he wanted was commitment; to tie himself to someone and open up the deepest parts of himself again, only to be struck down when he was the most vulnerable. It had already happened once with the one person he thought would never hurt him like that. He wasn’t sure if he could bear it a second time . . .

The quiet trill of Kurapika’s cellphone brought Killua back to the present. It was coming from somewhere on the floor, hiding among scattered, rumpled clothes. Carefully removing himself out from under Kurapika, Killua found the blond’s phone in the pocket of his discarded jeans. Gently shaking Kurapika’s shoulder, Killua called his name.

Kurapika’s eyebrows furrowed and he tried to wiggle away from Killua with the softest groan. Not able to stop the smile that spread on his face, Killua chuckled. “Your irresponsible teacher’s calling you. Wake up.”

Weakly rubbing a hazel eye, Kurapika accepted his ringing phone and pressed it to his ear after a rather cute yawn. “Hello?” His vocal chords sounded like someone took sand paper to them, and Kurapika blinked in surprise at the result of opening his mouth.

Killua held in a laugh. Now that he thought about it, Kurapika had been incredibly vocal yesterday . . .  

_“. . . You sound terrible. Are you sick?”_ Killua overheard Mizuken say, and it stroked his ego more than he could give the man credit for.

Kurapika tried clearing his throat, but to no avail. “I think I left my window open last night. It’s nothing to worry about.” He lied, and Killua shot him a smug smile. Kurapika simply rolled his eyes before Mizuken spoke again.

_“I wanted to check up on you. How are you feeling?”_

A soft smile graced Kurapika’s features. “I’m doing much better. And I know this will sound hard to believe . . . but my aura feels fine now. It calmed down significantly yesterday.”

Killua could practically hear Mizuken’s eyebrows disappear behind his bangs as he asked in astonishment, _“Really?? . . . Well, it’s a good thing I’m here then. We can continue your training to figure out what’s wrong with you.”_

Wide hazel eyes blinked owlishly and Kurapika coughed out, “Here?”

_“Oh, I’m not at your place yet. I’m about five minutes away.”_

Killua’s own eyes widened as far as they could go as his brain took a few agonizing seconds to process what he’d just heard. He froze in place, all too aware of the fact that he was stark naked in his friend’s bed with dried sweat and semen sticking to his skin. He immediately looked to the train wreck of clothes on the floor. Killua couldn’t even tell which ones were his, and they had _five minutes._ Less than that, even.

“Master, I just woke up. I’ll need a bit of time to make myself presentable, if that’s alright.” Kurapika did his best to stall and hide most of the panic in his voice. His eyes darted around the room as he spoke, trying to work out a way to hide what he and Killua had done yesterday.

_“Well, make it quick. I’ll be there soon.”_

Neither male realized Mizuken had hung up as they stared at each other for a few brief seconds. But suddenly, as if a trance set on them had been broken, they both sprang from the bed with loud curses. Killua immediately saw that Kurapika was moving a bit slower than usual; everything they had done must have taken its toll on him. But before Killua could ask if he was ok, the blond had him by the arm.

“We’ll get done faster if we shower together.” The Kuruta determined before yanking Killua into the bathroom with him.

Killua had never washed so fast in his entire life. Afterwards, he watched in fascination as Kurapika quickly used his Holy Chain to recover his body and throat from last night’s activities. It wouldn’t do Kurapika any good to be caught limping and losing his voice after he’d told Mizuken he was feeling fine. Although, Killua was sorry to see the bite-marks go.

After they scrambled out of the bathroom, Killua realized he had no clean clothes to change into. Well, he could see if Kurapika still had the clothes he’d used when he stayed over before . . . but Gon had an incredible sense of smell. He’d smell the blond’s scent all over Killua and probably ask questions. And even though Killua shuddered at the thought of wearing the clothes he’d worn yesterday, it was possible . . . Wait, those clothes most likely had semen on them.

Smell like Kurapika, or smell like Kurapika _and_ spunk?

Killua was forced to choose the first option. He would just have to talk his way out if Gon asked him anything. He turned to Kurapika, who was already half-dressed in jeans and ripping the sheets off the bed. “Do you still have those clothes from when I stayed over before?”

Kurapika had reached into a dresser drawer and tossed the neatly-folded gray t-shirt and dark blue cotton pants his direction without looking. Killua caught them and dressed in record time as Kurapika gathered all the sheets and dirty clothes in his arms, and disappeared into the hallway with them. With a quick glance at his cell phone that he’d found under the bed, Killua felt his pupils shrink as he saw that Mizuken was two minutes overdue.

“Did he call you or anything?” Killua called to the Kuruta, who had been in his tiny laundry room adjacent from the bedroom, stuffing all the laundry in his arms into a washing machine.

After setting the machine and letting it run, Kurapika hastily checked his own phone. “Oddly enough, no.”

Killua breathed a relieved sigh before an unnerving thought struck him. Standing in the doorway of Kurapika’s bedroom, Killua leaned against the frame and folded his arms across his chest. “I think I should go. Your teacher might think it’s weird that I spent the night with you.”

Hurrying back to the room, Kurapika tore a red sweater from his closet and started pulling it over his head while stating, “You’re my friend and you were concerned. Why is that cause for suspicion?”

Ignoring the slight disappointment he felt when Kurapika’s chest was covered, Killua answered, “Let’s just say he and I aren’t on the best of terms.”

Killua was pinned with a heavily disapproving look, complete with raised eyebrows and a small frown. “Killua, you didn’t.”

Shrinking under Kurapika’s scrutinizing gaze, Killua defended, “I told you I don’t like him. He wasn’t taking care of you properly.”

“Killua . . .”

Looking down at his feet, Killua’s expression was pinched with apprehension before he admitted, “He doesn’t know who I am or how we know each other.”

Kurapika huffed, his cheeks puffing out the slightest bit. “Really? And you’re going to leave me to deal with this alone?”

“If he asks, just stick to the plan.” Killua said with a shrug, placing his hands in his pants pockets. “Everything will be fine.”

“I wasn’t aware we had a plan.”

“We’re just friends.” Killua weakly explained as they continued towards the front door. As they both slipped on their shoes, Killua could sense Kurapika’s despondency. Before he thought about it, he found himself saying, “I mean, come on. We’ve been friends for years. Would it be so hard to believe?”

“Right.” Kurapika averted his eyes as he carefully bit his bottom lip. His eyes held a strange look that Killua couldn’t read before he opened the front door. “If things between you and Mizuken really are as bad as you say, you should leave.”

A weak, fluttering feeling rose in Killua’s stomach, and it made him feel ridiculous. Kurapika wasn’t throwing him out; it was just time for them to part ways. Of course, no one could know about what they were doing. It would surely be suicide for the both of them . . . It was for the best that he left now while no one was around to see him.

Killua followed the blond out the front door and onto the metal stairway. The sun was just leaving its highest point in the sky, illuminating Kurapika’s slightly damp hair. And as if on cue, the wind started playing with the blond strands, tussling them enough that the Kuruta gently tucked them behind an ear. Sunlight shone through facets of an exposed ruby earring and reflected in bright hazel eyes.

And when Killua realized those eyes were staring up at him, almost looking regretful that he had to leave, he couldn’t think. His better judgment didn’t even have time to scream _“what the hell are you doing?!”_ before his and Kurapika’s lips met.

It was a simple, chaste kiss that Killua found himself enjoying way too much. He’d grabbed onto Kurapika’s slender yet strong upper arms, while the blond’s hands had found Killua’s hips. Kurapika gave the smallest sigh through his nose, and suddenly Killua contemplated changing his mind. He didn’t have to go back to Bisky right away . . .

Wait, what was he thinking? How could he feel disappointed right now? They were in this for the sex, and Killua had gotten what he wanted, right? He should feel fulfilled, happy . . . physically content at the very least . . .

A quiet breeze harshly reminded them both that they were outside. Simultaneously, they broke the kiss and stepped away from each other. After scanning their surroundings to make sure no one had seen them, Kurapika cleared his throat. With the faintest blush he admitted, “I’d like to see you again soon.”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice there.” Killua half-teased, his eyes serious as his lips smiled. “You need someone to look out for you when your Nen freaks out again.”

For a second, Kurapika almost looked ready to thoroughly protest Killua’s self-involvement. He frowned and looked away, shifting his weight from foot to the other then glancing back up. His mouth gently curved into a smile before he casually teased back, “Who else would be fast enough to knock me out?”

“I never said I wanted it to come to that.” Killua said almost pensively before flashing a toothy smirk. “But if you really want me to be rough with you . . .”

“You were rough enough yesterday.” Kurapika dismissed with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. No doubt trying to take attention away from his deepening blush, Killua thought with a satisfied grin.

“How about we try to meet up once a week from now on?” Killua found himself suggesting. At this point, he was becoming unsure of his own motives. But he’d already said the words; he couldn’t necessarily take them back . . .

“Sure.” Kurapika answered, obviously trying to hide a smile. It made Killua want to kiss him again, but Mizuken could arrive at any second.

“See you next week.” Killua shot him one last grin before disappearing. He’d opted to use his assassin’s agility to scale the rooftops instead of using the stairs. While the stairs would have been less of a hassle, did he want to risk running into Kurapika’s teacher on the way?

But little had either of them expected, that beneath the black metal stairway was a hidden form, cloaking themselves with Zetsu. Dark eyes intently watched apartment 109 as Kurapika headed back inside.

* * *

 

“You’re rather late.” Kurapika had playfully greeted his Nen master as soon as he’d answered the door.

In fact, Mizuken had been more than fifteen minutes late, which Kurapika found odd. He knew from experience that Mizuken was not the type to be lenient about punctuality; when he said he would see you in five minutes, he meant five minutes or less. And definitely not fifteen. But after Kurapika had initially teased him, Mizuken just shrugged and said, “Well, I thought I’d give you more time to get ready.”

Curious. Kurapika’s studies under Mizuken almost never involved courtesy . . .

At the moment, Kurapika was bustling about in his kitchen, gathering the proper equipment to make tea. His teacher seemed more pensive than usual as he silently sat at the small dining room table with his hands folded under his chin. Kurapika was grateful he’d used the minutes before Mizuken had arrived to continue ridding his apartment of anything Killua-related.

Kurapika had been horrified to see that after Killua left, there were still stray clothes obviously strewn about the other rooms of his home. A rouge t-shirt had been tossed over the back of the sofa, a pair of jeans and three socks were on the kitchen floor, and a pair of red boxers hung from the ceiling fan in the dining room. How they all got there, Kurapika couldn’texactly recall. But he wasn’t entirely surprised.

He definitely wasn’t concerned with the location of his clothes yesterday. In fact, he was more concerned with getting them _off_ , and then proceeding to devour Killua like a starving animal. And somewhere after their fifth encounter, Kurapika could have cared less about _anything_ being in any semblance of order. Now, however, he was glad to see his apartment was as clean and neat as it should be . . . free of anything incriminating.

 Kurapika took himself out of his thoughts, hoping to the powers that be that he wasn’t sporting a residual blush. Mizuken had met Killua yesterday; who knows what kind of trouble the young man might have already caused for them. Kurapika had to keep a level head, because Killua had so far proven that he was incapable of such things.

Turning his back to heat a kettle of water on the stove, Kurapika asked as casually as he could, “Master, is everything alright? You’ve been quiet.”

Kurapika was one of the privileged few to know Mizuken was quite the worldly scholar. The man was always thinking, but his thoughtful expression was deeper and darker than usual. And Kurapika could hardly guess what was going through his head as he answered, “Don’t misunderstand me, Kurapika. I’m glad to see that you’re feeling normal again. But . . . I studied every single one of my books last night, and they said nothing. Nothing that even hinted towards what your condition might be. Those were the same tomes I used to teach myself about Nen; I always thought they would have answers to any question I could ask. But now, I’m not sure what to do. What is happening to you and why is not in any book I’ve ever heard of.”

This knowledge made Kurapika’s heart sink. For someone like Mizuken to say there wasn’t a book in the world to help him . . . That was fairly desolate news. Frowning slightly, Kurapika supplied, “I also checked the Hunter’s website as thoroughly as I was able. There was nothing there, either.”

“Oh, of course you found nothing there. If the Association knew about something so dangerous, they would keep that information to themselves.”

Mizuken had a point. Kurapika nodded in ascent before adding, “I was afraid. I still am, and knowing that there’s nothing to refer to . . . I don’t know when my aura will flair out of control again.” It was bound to happen again. Everything was oddly calm and complacent now, but Kurapika knew his problems hadn’t ended yet. Ever since Killua left, he felt his Nen begin to simmer with pent-up energy, just beneath its seemingly relaxed surface. How many days, hours, or minutes did he have before he lost control again?

The usually-calming process of preparing tea was doing nothing to ease Kurapika’s mind. He’d brought two steeping mugs of Oolong to the table and sat across from his teacher. He fought the urge to bury his face in his arms as he slouched in his chair. Losing himself to his chains the first time was terrifying . . . . The darkness, people screaming in fear, an entire building falling to ashes and smoke all around him . . . Though he hadn’t been able to see, he’d still heard and felt everything . . .

And to know he might have to experience that all over again . . . What if he ended up taking innocent lives the next time? Kurapika wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t chased Killua out earlier. At least he wouldn’t feel so alone.

“My books had no answers.” Mizuken solemnly admitted, causing Kurapika to look back up at him. “But I witnessed something. Something that I’ve never seen in all my years of studying Nen. And I wouldn’t have believed it had it not happened right in front of me.”

“. . . You just said you didn’t have any answers.” Kurapika’s surprise couldn’t help but bleed through to his voice.

Mizuken turned a deep, thoughtful gaze on his student. “I never said that; I said my books have no answers . . . Kurapika, I need you to keep an open mind for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Master.” Kurapika reluctantly agreed, “But I still don’t understand. How do you know that what you witnessed will help me?”

“I need you to listen for a moment.” Mizuken’s brows furrowed as he pinned his student with a hard gaze. “For lack of a better description . . . what I saw was incredible. Nearly indescribable. I had no idea Nen was capable of such a feat. Scholars of Nen have spent their entire lifetimes trying to know and define what we call life energy . . . and yet everything they thought they knew was so completely wrong. And I, of all people, had the privilege to bear witness to something so extraordinary. This discovery will revolutionize how we see Nen forever-”

“Master, with all due respect . . . What are you talking about?” Although what Mizuken was trying to say was intriguing and confusing all at once, Kurapika couldn’t see past the fact that his own teacher was refusing to answer his earlier question. And Mizuken had never withheld answers like this before.

“Kurapika, please listen. I need you to completely understand the situation before you jump to conclusions.”

“I don’t understand anything you’re saying.” Kurapika said with one raised eyebrow, “And why won’t you tell me what exactly it was that you witnessed?”

A foreboding sort of silence draped itself heavily between teacher and student. Kurapika didn’t want to believe that Mizuken was hiding something from him: but it was in his evasive words, and in the way he refused to meet Kurapika’s eyes.

Mizuken’s posture was suddenly too rigid, and he stuttered in the slightest before reprimanding his student, “I told you to keep an open mind. You aren’t following my instructions.”

Kurapika’s gaze hardened with suspicion. “What did you see?”

“Kurapika-”

“Tell me who you saw.” Kurapika had meant to say “what” instead of “who”, but he figured his slip worked out for the best as Mizuken became visibly more nervous.

“Keeping an open mind involves setting your emotions aside and remaining calm.” Mizuken sternly pointed out. “You are doing neither.”

Suddenly, even Mizuken’s punctuality was _inexcusable_. Kurapika didn’t know what to believe as he stared wordlessly at his teacher from across the table.

“You weren’t late, were you?” Kurapika could not bring himself to say Mizuken’s title. “You were already here . . . spying on me.”

Mizuken’s façade finally broke at those words. His eyes pleaded with his student. “Please believe me, it hadn’t started out like that. I was only concealing my presence and waiting until he left. I wasn’t expecting to see what I did.”

Kurapika did his best to bottle up his anger. He hid a deep scowl behind folded hands. His heart pounded furiously in his head, and he closed his eyes, unwilling to see the man sitting across from him. “You spied on me.”

“Kurapika-”

Deadly scarlet eyes opened and pinned Mizuken with a fiery stare. “You spied on _us_.”

“It wasn’t intentional-”

“The hell it wasn’t!” Kurapika shot up from his chair, nearly upsetting both mugs of tea in the process as the table shook.

“Kurapika, just listen-”

“I wondered why you were so hesitant to tell me.” Kurapika seethed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “If you’re going to insult or denounce either of us, I would prefer that we get it out of the way now.”

“I have nothing but respect for you. And who you chose to do what with is your business.” Mizuken showed his palms in surrender as he spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words, “But while we’re on the subject, I don’t necessarily approve of him. He’s violent and short-tempered.”

And here came the repercussions of Killua and Mizuken colliding without Kurapika being present. With a quiet, dismissive sigh, Kurapika retorted, “He didn’t threaten to kill you on a whim. He was protecting me.”

Mizuken’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he leaned back into his chair, “All he had to do was at least say what he was to you. It would have made things easier had I known he was your boyfriend.”

Kurapika’s scarlet eyes glowed with malice at Mizuken’s last word. “. . . Say that again, and I’ll give him permission to kill you.”

An incredulous look dawned on Mizuken’s face, and it only made Kurapika angrier. “. . . Are you trying to tell me you two aren’t dating?”

“I’m done entertaining your sick fascination with my private affairs. Now get out of my apartment.”

“Kurapika, you need help. All I want to do is help you through what’s been happening to you. I understand you’re upset, and I don’t really blame you. But please look past your anger for a moment and see the bigger picture.”

The younger man stood perfectly still, trying to keep himself contained. Squaring his shoulders, Kurapika stood more rigid than usual as he felt all emotion melt from his features. The only thing that gave him away was the burning crimson in his eyes. “Now that I know you can’t be trusted, I have a few conditions to set: from now on, we won’t meet here again. I don’t care where else; just not here. And you will _never_ approach me about him again.”

Mizuken still seemed determined to get his point across as he met Kurapika’s gaze. “What if I have important information for you regarding him?”

“I can’t say I give a damn.”

“You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“No, I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand the position you’re in.” The urge to summon his chains was great, despite the fact that Kurapika wouldn’t know what to do with them once they were out. “You will not breathe a word of what you saw. To anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

Kurapika’s head was spinning with anger. He could feel his blood boiling from the top of his head all the way out to the tips of his fingers. His and Killua’s cover was finally blown. He’d known it was only a matter of time, but what to do about it now . . . should he tell Killua? If Mizuken knew what was good for him, he would keep his word. And telling Killua wouldn’t be necessary if the older man could hold his tongue.

After a long while of silence, Mizuken solemnly conceded. “Of course.”

Turning away with a grimace, Kurapika closed his eyes and implored, “I really can’t stand the sight of you right now. Please just get out.”

As soon as Kurapika heard the front door close, a violent urge to destroy something flowed through his blood. He sat back down, fuming in silence for several minutes; trying in vain to calm his eyes and his racing pulse.

Mizuken knew about them now.

They had been careless. His Nen master had seen Killua and himself together in a way that no one should ever see. Kurapika had to spare a moment to feel grateful that it wasn’t Gon or Leorio who’d seen them.

But what if, one day, it was?

From the very beginning, Kurapika had been thinking . . . should he and Killua stop being sexually involved? Was it just too much of a risk to their relationships with their best friends? What about with each other? Kurapika knew it in the pit of his stomach: after the very first night he and Killua had sex, there would be no easy way out. They had crossed a line that was very hard to come back from. Even if they did stop being . . . intimate with each other now, Kurapika probably wouldn’t be able to look Killua in the eye for months without remembering what they’d done together.

And he couldn’t forget the stinging pain that erupted in the middle of his chest whenever he thought of disassociating with Killua . . . But if it needed to be done, he would have no choice.

All it had taken was the tiniest slip of their masks to expose them. For a split-second, Kurapika stared at Killua’s number in his phone’s contacts. He was moments away from calling the younger man and ending what they’d started. Sitting back down at the table, Kurapika slumped over with a heavy sigh. Hiding his face in his folded arms, he mentally cursed himself.

He was too selfish to end it.

It would only take a phone call. A few seconds of time at the most, just to say one sentence . . . _“Killua, I can’t do this with you anymore”_ . . . Of course, Killua would fight it for a while, but Kurapika could stand his ground and weather the initial temper tantrum. He knew he had the patience and endurance.

And yet, his entire chest constricted painfully the more he thought of letting Killua go.

Kurapika suddenly bypassed Killua’s number and scrolled up to dial another. For now, he needed an outlet, and he was almost certain he knew someone who could help with that.

_“Ah, my favorite Kuruta.”_ The overly-sultry timbre of Hisoka’s voice filtered in and Kurapika nearly hung up on him. But unfortunately, he had a goal in mind.

“Are you still playing errand boy for the mafia?”

_“Who wants to know?”_

“I’m in no mood for your games. Are you still in the city or not?”

_“Maybe~”_ Hisoka sing-songed, obviously enjoying riling Kurapika. And Kurapika had to hand it to him: it was working. _“Have you been studying your aura like a good boy?”_

“Maybe.” Kurapika mimicked in a more stoic tone. “Perhaps we can help each other. You wouldn’t pose as the Ritz family’s underling unless you were looking for something.”

_“Nothing gets past you.”_ Hisoka chuckled darkly under his breath, _“Well, I suppose if you’re so interested, there is some rather intriguing information I happened upon. I could tell you the location of a pair of Scarlet Eyes . . .”_

Kurapika was already raising an eyebrow before the man finished his proposition. “In exchange for what?”

_“Oh, you are too smart for your own good.”_ Kurapika had to bite back a retort about the patronizing tone in Hisoka’s voice. _“If you could provide me an audience with Neon Nostrade, we might have a deal."_

* * *

 

Killua was climbing the wooden stairs to Bisky’s cabin when the front door swung open. It hit the wall beside it hard enough to scare away most of the surrounding birds, and Killua spared a cautious glance within the doorway. It wasn’t long before Gon appeared, determinedly adjusting the straps of a hiking backpack. When he’d finally noticed Killua still standing on the stairs, his mouth formed a hard line and he looked away. “Look who decided to show up.”

“I thought we agreed that I’m my own person, and you don’t need to know where I am all the time.” Killua found himself immediately retorting.

Gon didn’t seem the least bit phased. Still looking away in disapproval, he added, “You didn’t read a single text I sent you. Of course not. You didn’t answer any of my calls either, so I saw that coming.”

Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, Killua groused, “What are you getting at?”

Standing straighter than before, Gon solemnly looked his friend in the eye with a strong, burning gaze. “Ging contacted me, Killua. And I’m going to meet him with or without you.”

Ging Freecss bothering to get in touch with his son after so many years of running away and playing “catch me if you can”? Killua wanted to believe for Gon’s sake that Ging had really cared enough to reach out to his only child. But somehow, it just didn’t seem to add up.

“Why would he do this now, after all this time? How did he contact you?” The questions fell from Killua’s mouth before he could stop them.

The light in Gon’s eyes faltered for a moment, and he answered, “It was a text. But-”

“A text, Gon? Really?” Killua interrupted chidingly, leaning on the stair rail and averting his eyes. “How do you know it was really him?”

“I don’t.” Gon declared. “But I’m willing to take the risk to find out.”

Scrubbing at his hair, Killua glared incredulously up at Gon. “Do you understand what kind of danger you might put yourself in?”

Gon in turn rolled his eyes. “Would it be any different than all the time we’ve spent together?”

“Gon, this is a really dumb idea-”

“Have I been stopping you every time _you_ do something dumb? After all, ‘you are your own person’. You make your own decisions now, no matter how _stupid_ they are, and nothing anyone else says matters. Even when they care about your dumb ass and they don’t want to see you hurt.”

Killua had a nasty comment on the tip of his tongue, until he’d heard that last sentence. His original malice melted away and guilt quickly filled the void it left. “Hey, that’s not true. What you say matters . . .”

“I’ve asked you to be honest with me and to stop running away all the time. Has that happened yet? You don’t listen to a damn thing I say!”

Killua would admit, that stung . . . but he deserved it. He couldn’t blame Gon for reacting in the way he did: what if their roles were reversed? Timidly tucking his hands in his pockets, Killua answered, “I know I haven’t been a good friend lately. But I want to try to make it up to you.”

Gon blinked in silence, looking floored by Killua’s admission, before his guard went up again. “How do I know I can believe you?”

“I want to go with you to meet Ging. And I’ll stay by your side the entire time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Killua nodded and hurried inside so he could prepare for the long trip ahead of them.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Bisky felt rather overwhelmed as her eyes swept across the surface of what was supposedly a desk. It was smothered with so many unorganized files and papers that she’d forgotten what the color the wood was. Adjusting sparkling pink reading glasses on the bridge of her petite nose, she sighed and tossed her blond bangs. Sorting through all of this could take her all night.

But at least the boys were off on their little field trip in the mountains, so she could actually focus on the task at hand. With all the uncertain, negative energy between Gon and Killua hanging around, Bisky had been affected by it herself. She was even debating just splitting them up completely; maybe it might do them some good to be apart for a while.

But wherever the two ended up going, it was imperative that Bisky continued to mentor Killua. He was getting farther and farther out of control, and she was going to have to break the news to him soon . . .

She had been trying to wait for the opportune moment to speak with Killua about the inevitable; but whatever the issues were between Killua and Gon, it was clear that they wouldn’t be resolved any time soon. And she had to admit, Killua was quickly running out of time.

In retrospect, she was glad that Silva Zoldyck called her when he did. Though she wasn’t entirely sure how he knew, his parent’s intuition was right on the mark.

Bisky was one of the few Hunters in existence that could makes heads or tails of the story Killua’s aura told. Of course, that was mainly because of all her past research that now sat in a mountainous pile on the desk before her. She would have never actively brought all that material with her, had she not seen Killua’s new signature. It was such highly-classified and volatile information; she knew the Hunter’s Association wouldn’t want her preaching it to the world. There would most likely be severe consequences.

But no, Bisky was going to take the risk of exposing that information to Killua. She couldn’t possibly leave one of her most gifted and accomplished students to blindly wander through the mess he obviously stumbled into. He had no idea what was happening to him, and according to her research, it should have killed him by now.

But Killua and Gon had always been so much stronger than the others she’d mentored in the past. They always managed to endure most anything, so Bisky almost wasn’t surprised to see Killua still standing after more than three weeks of torture.

Bisky knew the solitary, egotistic nature of Hunters was the polar opposite of the evidence in her research. As a Treasure Hunter herself, she understood this personally, and knew that isolation and independence were key factors in simply staying alive in the world they’d built for themselves.

Hunters were always taught from a young age that they must depend on only themselves and the power of their own Nen. But this research, the files Bisky held in her very hands, went against everything she had ever known as a Hunter.

She still remembered the shock and dismay that permeated her very core the day it was introduced to her, four years ago. “Should such things even be possible? No, there’s no way . . .” she would think to herself, over and over. That was, of course, when she was still in denial.

Shuffling yet another stack of papers into a manila folder, Bisky yawned and slouched back into a black leather office chair. She was already dreadfully bored of sorting through the paperwork she’d allowed to accumulate, and she was hardly halfway done with it. Although, Bisky was grateful that neither of the boys happened to come across any of this mess while they were here. Not that they would specifically go looking through Bisky’s things; but especially where Killua was concerned, these documents were for her eyes only right now.

She’d spent days thinking up just the right way to approach Killua, hopefully making her argument believable enough for someone as skeptical as him. She was prepared for any range of reactions that Killua might have towards the news she had for him. And judging from the last conversation they had yesterday, none of those reactions would be positive. She couldn’t blame him entirely. If Bisky ever found herself in the same situation, she would behave in a similar fashion: What right did anyone’s Nen have to take their freedom from them?

A rather worn envelope had slipped from the desk, a soft crinkle announcing its fall. It drew Bisky’s immediate attention, and she noticed her own tiny scrawl on its front: _Project M5, #2_

Bisky had picked up and opened the envelope, knowing she would have to reread everything in front of her eventually:

_Biscuit Krueger,_

_It didn’t take me long to figure out who you are, so I figured I would drop the stupid codename they tried to make me use. And trying to gain my favor is useless, so I would appreciate that your response does not contain any more ridiculous statements of my possible release or any kind of probation. They won’t let me go, and you and I both know it. So please cut the bullshit. I know your people want information, and I want our story told. So we all win, one way or another._

_M_

That letter was written so long ago, Bisky doubted her correspondent even remembered it. But it was the predecessor of the mountain of papers that now sat atop Bisky’s desk. The papers that did in fact contain the story that M so desperately wanted to tell the world . . . With a heavy sigh, Bisky knew she had a long way to go before she was completely organized and could refresh herself on her old research.

* * *

 

Kurapika never tried to dwell on how ridiculous he thought Hisoka was. Though the man was a more than formidable opponent with a sharp mind, some of the things he did were . . . questionable, at best.

For example, why would Hisoka request to meet Kurapika in a very crowded, very _pink_ maid café in the middle of Yorknew? And why, pray tell, did Kurapika need to be in a suit for such an occasion? He was hardly sure he had the right place.

The delicate tinkling of a bell sounded as Kurapika opened the door to the dimly-lit café. He was immediately met with a cheap, rose-scented spray. The overbearing smell was enough to give him a headache, let alone the obnoxious décor inside.

The tables and chairs were small, white, and meant for no more than intimately seating two people. The large windows were shaded with what looked like half-opened, heavy red drapery and pink ribbon. There were red and pink paper lanterns dotting the ceiling in strings. And there was nowhere he could look that didn’t have some kind of heart-shaped ornamentation to it.

To Kurapika, it all just looked tacky and overdone. Even he could think of better ways to decorate a café meant for couples.

. . . Why would Hisoka want to meet him at such an egregiously flamboyant place?

For a cafe that was so overwhelmingly red, pink, and heart-shaped; their dining room was full of young men and women on dates. Some were genuinely enjoying themselves, and others looked very much like they’d been dragged there. Kurapika was glad he wasn’t the only one who felt uncomfortable just before a hostess in a fluffy pink dress bounced up to him.

She chirped out a polite greeting just as Kurapika spotted Hisoka at a table in a far corner. He was also in a black suit, complete with a pink silk tie. The way he was eyeing Kurapika from a distance was enough to unnerve the Kuruta as he told the hostess he was with him.

She dutifully led Kurapika to Hisoka’s table, which was decorated with a fake candle glowing in a pink glass jar along with a tiny vase of carnations. Kurapika regrettably noted that the backs of the little white chairs resembled hearts as he sat in the empty one across from Hisoka.

Kurapika turned to thank the waitress, and soon after Hisoka silkily added, “I was worried you wouldn’t make it, darling.”

Nearly leaping out of his skin at the feeling of Hisoka’s hand covering his own, Kurapika faked a smile that he hoped was affectionate enough and replied, “Of course not, love. How could I forget the date we’ve been planning for weeks?”

Their waitress, who was unsuccessful in recovering from a ferocious blush and much stuttering, hurried to set down their menus and leave them to their “date”.

Noticing that the other waitresses began watching them in fascination from the entrance to the kitchen, Kurapika held his smile and tilted his head amenably. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“We needed a thorough cover story.” Hisoka leaned back in his chair with an equally casual grin and a slight chuckle. If anyone else were just looking at them, they would appear to be a couple enjoying their night out. Hisoka’s fingers curled around Kurapika’s hand on the table, giving the illusion that they were lovingly holding hands. “And I had to choose a public place completely outside of any mafia influence so there was no chance of anyone tailing us. I have strictly confidential information, and the wrong people are not allowed to hear it.”

“But a fake date? I never thought you would sink that low.” Kurapika slipped his hand away and picked up the menu in front of him, pretending to peruse it. All of the items were desserts for two to share . . . Kurapika swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He had to pick something before the waitress came back to keep the act up . . .

“You have something I want. Of course I would spare no expense.” A sharp smile cut across Hisoka’s face. “Did you secure the audience I requested?”

“Neon trusts me, so she agreed to see you. Did you expect anything less?”

“You never disappoint, dearest.”

“No one’s listening to us. You don’t have to resort to pet names.”

“No . . . but it _is_ fun watching you squirm.”

Kurapika only wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Oh, don’t look so upset, love.” Hisoka reached across the table and displayed an open palm with a smile that was far too romantic for someone like him. Kurapika took the gesture and the man’s subtle glance to the left as his cue to dawn a love-struck look again. Placing his hand in Hisoka’s once more, Kurapika pretended to laugh at something he’d said as their waitress approached the table to take their order.

The only thing Kurapika remembered from the menu was a raspberry chocolate torte. After the waitress had left, he felt Hisoka squeeze his hand before releasing it. “I wasn’t aware you were fond of chocolate.”

“I’m not, really . . .” But Kurapika could name someone very prominent in his life that was. Shoving that thought far, _far_ away, he amended, “I had to tell her something. I didn’t want to send her away and then have her come right back. She could hear something.”

“If you say so.” Kurapika did not appreciate the knowing look Hisoka was giving him. It was borderline arrogant.

Quietly clearing his throat, Kurapika linked his fingers together on the table. “Are you ever planning on telling me exactly why you want to speak with Neon?”

“I’m simply confirming a rumor.”

“Of what sort?”

“You remember when she regained her fortune-telling ability.”

Kurapika felt very out of place in the little pink café at that moment. That time, four years ago, was a time he avoided thinking back to at all costs. He hoped he would never have to be reminded of it ever again . . .

He nearly glared across the table at Hisoka. “It’s been years since then. Why bring it up now?”

Sharp, golden eyes pinned Kurapika with a stern gaze. “You weren’t the only one who was disappointed in Kuroro that day.”

Kuroro Lucifer.

Just that name was enough to send Kurapika back to the weeks he spent losing himself to a maddening need for revenge. He had become a purely destructive force, annihilating everything in his path that kept him from what he felt was his ultimate purpose in life. Sacrificing his humanity and the value of his own life, only to find that his people’s murderers were already dead. He remembered every drop of blood, the lifeless glaze in their still-open eyes, what may have been drying tears on some of their faces . . .

 _No_. _Enough._

“What does this have to do with Neon?” Kurapika looked up at Hisoka, trying to keep himself rooted in the present.

Hisoka continued on, admitting, “She may have gained more than just her original ability.”

Kurapika held his arms to his chest to calm his shaking, and still managed to harshly demand, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Stop looking so angry. People are starting to notice.” Hisoka murmured, tilting his head toward a few other concerned couples who’d taken to watching them.

“Do you even know what I went through back then? Do you remember how many lives I took?” Kurapika outright hissed, not caring about the attention he was attracting. “Neon is fatherless because of me.”

“But now, she is the most powerful authority in this city . . . because of you.” Hisoka’s trademark smirk was now curling his lips. “If only she were a little older. Maybe in a few years I’ll challenge her.”

The blatant threat against Neon threw all further thought from Kurapika’s mind.

“You won’t dare touch her.” His irises threatened to burn crimson through his contacts. “Not while I’m still standing.”

“Oh, how delightful.” Golden eyes glittered in satisfaction. “You feel responsible for her.”

Kurapika couldn’t help but turn away, poising himself to get up and leave at a moment’s notice. He would not allow Hisoka to badger him about past events that didn’t even matter anymore. “I held up my end of the deal. Neon has agreed to see you. So tell me where the eyes are, or I will revoke your meeting.”

 Before Kurapika could rise from his chair, Hisoka’s hand shot across the table to grab him by the wrist. Long, spindly fingers dug themselves painfully into Kurapika’s flesh and bone as the two men stared each other down. “Despite what you may think of me, you need to hear this. So I suggest you relax, fake a smile, and listen.”

Hisoka’s grip tightened, and for a moment Kurapika feared his wrist would break in front of dozens of witnesses. But he remained firm and relaxed, never showing for even a second that he felt any pain. When Hisoka let go, Kurapika could already feel the bruises and broken skin hidden in the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“Let’s not lose sight of why we’re here.” Folding his hands beneath his chin, Hisoka’s piercing gaze met Kurapika’s again. “I know you remember the day the last five members of the Genei Ryodan were found dead.”

Kurapika bristled, “I was the one who found the bodies.”

Hisoka made a point of ignoring him before continuing. “And four years later, I happen upon a rumor that Neon Nostrade has been seen conjuring a book made of Nen. A strange-looking book with a white handprint on its cover.”

Kurapika’s eyes narrowed at the table. He felt unsteady again as he asked, “And you’re certain of this?”

“I’m not.” Hisoka simply grinned. “That’s why I’m here.”

“To confirm or deny . . . that Neon somehow gained Kuroro’s Skill Hunter after his death.” Kurapika unconsciously brought his uninjured hand up to tug at few locks of blond hair in disbelief. His mind was spinning, almost unable to take in what he just heard. “But . . . how?”

Hisoka gave an odd little chuckle as he casually mentioned, “Did you know that Kuroro always wanted children?”

Kurapika immediately shuddered at such an idea. “Thank the gods that never happened . . .”

“Kuroro did die childless.” Hisoka affirmed, a mock disappointment to his tone. “But, he always said that if he ever had a child, he wanted a daughter to spoil rotten. Of course, she would have grown up accustomed to having the world handed to her . . .”

“Just like Neon.” Kurapika felt his heart slam up into his throat and pulse through his head as he concluded, “Are you telling me that when Kuroro died, he by some miracle _gave_ his Skill Hunter to Neon, along with returning her Ghostwriter?”

Hisoka nodded once.

“That’s impossible . . .” Kurapika said, talking more to himself than anything. “It’s _impossible_. Nen does not function that way. It’s the corporeal embodiment of a singular cognizant life form, it can’t . . .”

“A textbook definition doesn’t mean people can’t exceed its limitations.”

“It doesn’t make any sense, regardless.”

The waitress from before had returned with their order, causing the two of them to put their conversation on hold. She obviously had to work up the courage to approach them after the tense little scene they’d put on for the whole café to see. If she was acting skittish around them, Kurapika could only imagine how the other couples felt.

“I-is everything ok?” she squeaked nervously, her saucer-wide brown eyes darting between the two men.

Hisoka smoothly reassured her as best he could, but once she scurried away, he rolled his eyes at Kurapika. “Do try to lighten up. We’re only acting.”

Suddenly, a fork with a sliver of torte perched on it was before Kurapika’s lips. The blond forced away slight nausea before seamlessly faking a smile. Begrudgingly, he accepted the confection, enjoying the rich chocolate flavor and the tang of fresh raspberries much more than he expected.

“Auras are still such a mystery. The lives they intertwine, how they connect us . . .” Hisoka’s grin could rival the Cheshire cat’s, and his eyes twinkled in anticipation. “That’s the fun part. It keeps things . . . interesting.”

Kurapika’s brows furrowed as he thought hard. Why did Hisoka sound like Mizuken all of a sudden?

He had to ignore it. Hisoka could have been playing mind games with him for all he knew. “You’ve wasted enough of my time. Where are the Scarlet Eyes you promised?”

“I never promised anything.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll answer me.”

“I was only teasing, love.”

Kurapika could feel a frustrated growl threatening to claw its way up his throat, but he suppressed it before snapping, “What do you want _now_? You’ve gotten what you came for, what more is there for you to gain from this?”

“I want you there when I meet with her.”

Kurapika was officially done with the date façade. He wore an obvious frown as he demanded, “Why?! Haven’t you caused enough trouble by breathing life into things that no longer matter?”

Hisoka’s only response was glimmer in his eyes and an enigmatic chuckle.

“You sick bastard.” Kurapika finally let himself growl out. “I’ll meet your conditions, if you meet mine. I want the information about the Eyes. Tonight. Do I make myself clear?”

* * *

 

Travelling side by side with Gon, through what looked like the middle of nowhere on the slope of some forested mountain, was bringing back memories for Killua. During the long journeys he and Gon used to take together, they would joke and play games to pass the time. Those days felt so far away now; even though in reality it had only been a month since everything fell apart.

And here they both were, trying to pick up the shards of their shattered friendship and getting cut by the pieces.

Killua had tried to strike up conversation a few times, often trying to speak of general subjects, until Gon silenced him with a sigh and an exasperated, “We never used to have this much trouble talking.”

“I know that.” Killua groused, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets. “Does it even matter to you that I’m trying?”

There was doubt in Gon’s gaze before he looked away. And then, nearly an hour of silence followed.

During all that time Killua was graciously given to think to himself, he ended up wishing he would have just stayed with Bisky. He and Gon could barely talk anymore. They hadn’t so much as looked at each other, and the sun was starting to set. Relenting with a quiet sigh, Killua was going to attempt to tell Gon that they should probably set up camp for the night . . . Until he suddenly lost his footing on the smooth dirt path beneath him.

 _“What the hell?”_ was Killua’s instinctual thought. How clumsy could he possibly be? He quickly looked over to Gon, who was in the same place at Killua’s side and looking at the ground in front of him. He must have been too lost in his thoughts to notice.

Killua righted himself and continued onwards, not bothering to give any more thought to his ridiculous equilibrium. A few more seconds passed, and sure enough, Killua tripped over nothing again. This time a bit harder than he expected, nearly missing hitting the ground.

He immediately looked over at Gon. Any other time, Killua would assume Gon was as clueless as he was, but his sharp eyes caught on to the barest hint of a smirk on Gon’s lips. It was almost nonexistent, but it was enough for Killua to know who the real culprit was.

A sense of excitement and mischievousness bled through him as he casually placed his hands behind his head. Unassuming and innocent, he looked away, making himself the perfect target.

As soon as Killua felt the direction of the breeze around them change, he leaned out of the way of Gon’s leg. Just in time, he noted to himself as they locked gazes. They both wore identical, playful smiles.

Killua’s eyes narrowed and a thrill shot down his spine, like it always did when he and Gon played together. When Gon shot out to try and strike again, Killua gracefully backed away and started running down the mountain path.

Whatever kind of game this was, a high-stakes tag or simply “catch me if you can”, it had always been one of Killua’s favorites. Of course, when it came to speed he had the advantage, but Gon would surprise him sometimes. As they leapt through the trees, Killua heard Gon’s loud, uninhibited laugh ringing down the mountainside.

The burdens of growing older had been abandoned at that point, and Killua felt like a child again. The wind he and Gon created whipped through their clothes and hair as they played. There was nothing else to it: just two best friends enjoying each other and laughing. After a while, Killua began to feel lightheaded; how long had it been since he’d let go and laughed like this?

Gon had nearly caught Killua by the ankle, his fingertips just brushing the skin and causing Killua to dart away. He stuck his tongue out at Gon before disappearing.

“Hey! No agility, that’s cheating!” Gon called after him with a huge grin. Killua took a risk and snuck behind his friend while he was yelling, and head-locked him into temporary submission.

Gon squirmed his way free of Killua’s hold, and immediately brought them both back down to the ground. Pretty hard, Killua thought as he felt a numbness in his bones that always came with being brought down by a strong opponent. But even with the breath surely knocked out of them both, they were laughing. They must have looked ridiculous.

Suddenly, Gon had lifted himself halfway off the ground, accidentally looming over Killua in the process.

Then, the laughter died.

Killua felt sick as he stared up at Gon’s face, at his eyes and lips. Once upon a time, he’d tried to kiss his best friend. He still had feelings for him. And that friend was currently on top of him, unblinkingly peering down at him.

They openly stared at each other, the light blush on Killua’s cheeks painfully noticeable at such a short distance. Things were no longer simple between them. Even though, for just a few minutes, everything had been. They both let go and had a taste of what their relationship used to be, only to have reality rear its ugly head moments later.

The look in Gon’s eyes had changed from friendly and inviting to distant and sad as he got up and brushed himself off. “I miss just being friends with you.”

Gon’s sentiment was barely audible, and yet it broke Killua’s heart with such alarming force. He sat up and stared down at the dirt beneath him. “Gon . . . I . . .”

“Do you wish you never met me?”

Killua met his friend’s sad look and asked, “How could you say that? You’re my best friend.”

“I’ll never be able to give you what you want.” Gon seemed to tuck into himself, turning away and sighing heavily, “I know you know that.”

“I know. We’re different now, there’s no denying it.” Something painfully constricted Killua’s heart as he watched Gon’s back. It felt as if the young man would walk away without another word in that moment, and in his fear he continued, “But look at what we just did. We were fucking around like idiots not even a few minutes ago. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Gon turned fractionally to glance at Killua with one doubtful brown eye, “Yeah I think so, but . . . I don’t think any more of our friendships should be messed up by something like this.”

Killua had stood at those words and raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Gon to continue.

After completely turning back around, Gon was clearly having trouble looking his friend in the eye as he said, “Look, I didn’t really have the guts to ask before, but . . . Are you and . . . Well, I mean . . . I tried not to get involved, but I have to ask because there was just so much evidence that maybe . . .”

Killua nearly threw his hands in the air in exasperation, but he settled for rolling his eyes. He always hated it when Gon never got to the point. “Gon, please just speak your mind.”

“Like that right there.” Gon pointed out with an accusatory index finger. “Even the way you talk is changing. That’s not something Killua from a month ago would’ve said . . . That sounds like something . . .” The young man’s sudden bravado disappeared, leaving him to shrink into himself and look down again.

“Just say it.”

Gon’s eyes darted away again as he muttered, “You sound like Kurapika.”

“I already told you he and I are closer now.”  The words tumbled from Killua’s mouth almost too quickly. “We can relate to each other, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You have to understand why it bothers me. Both of you are gay, and you’re still hurt from what happened between us.”

What Gon said was hitting a little too close to home for Killua. What Kurapika had told him weeks ago . . . _“How long will we manage to keep this from Gon and Leorio? . . . If things go badly . . . it could sever all our friendships.”_

Should he have given the blond’s words more thought? Probably.

But it was too late to go back now.

Killua raked a hand through his hair and quipped, “Yeah, and? What does being gay have to do with being a good friend?”

Gon looked into Killua’s eyes as he admitted, “I’m afraid that there are things going on between you guys that shouldn’t be.”

 _Busted,_ came an instant thought. Killua internally panicked for the briefest of seconds before he folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at Gon, feigning anger. “Are you serious?”

 _Just keep pretending you’re angry and he’ll give up eventually_ , Killua said to himself to quell the alarm that spread within him.

“I can’t keep quiet anymore, Killua.” Gon stood his ground, his intense stare burning into Killua as he admitted in a rush, “The day we all met Leorio, I tried to tell myself that you, me, and Kurapika being together again was just a little awkward because of our history, but I can’t ignore what I saw . . . The way you looked at him when you first saw him; and the way he looked back, even if it was only for a second. The way you two couldn’t even talk to each other without saying weird things. And the way you would talk with your eyes, having whole conversations without saying a word.”

 _Keep cool, Killua. Nothing’s gonna happen._ It was getting harder to do the more Gon spoke. Killua could feel his palms starting to sweat, and his pounding heart slowly slid up to the back of his throat. It became harder for Killua to breathe as Gon still continued on.

“I know you still remember when Hideki tried to date Kurapika. You wouldn’t let it happen. I told myself you were just trying to look out for him, but you were so mad you were destroying stuff and saying Hideki was a bad guy! I’ve never seen you so _jealous_ of anything this whole time we’ve been friends!”

Killua was sheepishly pinching an earlobe between his fingertips. He lost the will to look at Gon a while ago. “Gon, I-”

“Don’t. Let me finish.” Gon held up a hand with a slight glare. “You’ve been acting like Kurapika too, crossing your legs and tucking your hair behind your ears . . . Killua, what’s going on?”

Killua felt truly trapped in that moment. He was running out of options; and his best friend still stared at him, waiting for an explanation. Killua looked at the ground and finally murmured, “We’re not dating. We’re only friends.”

Gon continued trying to search Killua’s eyes, not at all impressed by the answer he got. With a heavy sigh, he frowned and said, “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I think you shouldn’t spend too much time with Kurapika for now.”

Killua’s pocketed hands clenched into fists. He couldn’t make himself look Gon in the eye anymore, and his bangs masked half his face as he bowed his head. “I already told you we’re not dating.”

“I don’t even recognize what you’re wearing.” Killua saw Gon’s hand gesture to the gray shirt and dark blue pants he had on. “You’ve never owned anything that looks like that. I mean, is he buying you clothes or something? And you smell _so much_ like him that your own scent is being overpowered. It makes me think . . .” An unbearable few seconds of silence threatened to suffocate Killua before Gon picked his sentence back up. “It makes me think you guys are . . . that you might be . . . having sex with each other.”

Killua had no choice but to remain silent at the point. His racing heart had calmed, and he knew he only had one option left to throw Gon off his trail. The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he gritted his teeth and shot Gon a deadly glare. “We’re _not_ dating! Isn’t that enough of an answer for you?!”

The bait Killua laid out had worked, and Gon was angry in an instant. “I’m just looking out for you! I don’t want you to start messing around with Kurapika because you’re trying to get over what happened with us . . . It would only hurt both of you.”

With a sharp turn of his head, Killua concealed another wave of panic with more false anger. Tugging on the hem of his shirt, Killua stiffly mentioned, “If you have to know, Kurapika bought these for me back when I was staying with him because I had no other clothes. He did me a favor because he was being a good friend.”

When Killua gained enough courage to look at Gon, the defeated look in his eyes told Killua he’d won. For now.

But Killua knew that there was no way Gon wouldn’t bring this up again if the chance presented itself. Looking to the sun that continued to sink behind the mountains, Killua simply noted, “It’s getting dark. We need to set up some kind of camp soon.”

Gon had since turned his back to Killua, and it wasn’t long before he said, “Maybe you should go back to Bisky in the morning.”


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

_We fought again. I’m coming back._

Bisky glanced away from her phone. She would admit, she’d predicted Gon eventually sending Killua away. But not more than a day had passed; she wasn’t anticipating Killua returning quite so soon.

She supposed now was the perfect opportunity to start acclimating him to his new life.

Looking over the single sheet of information she’d hand-picked after a long and careful self-deliberation, she felt the nerves that built up within her after all these weeks of staying silent. She needed to present this information to Killua somehow . . .

_The Akai Ito Phenomenon_

_As Studied and Interpreted by 14 th Chairman Cheadle Yorkshire_

_Interpreter’s Notes: Being the naturally social creatures we are, people will form bonds with one another. But those who have awakened their Nen may have the chance to access a whole new kind of bond. Just as Nen is the corporeal embodiment of a singular cognizant life form, the emotions of a Nen-user can become just as palpable._

_The infamous power of negative emotions can have devastating, if not permanently crippling affects, on an individual’s Nen. In turn, no one has given much thought to how positive emotions can leave their mark on Nen-users. It has recently been revealed that these effects can be just as powerful, if not more so, than their negative counterparts._

_After eight months of extensive research, a dedicated team of professional Hunters uncovered the truth behind these theories. Though it is rare, it is possible for two completely separate individuals to be connected through their Nen, and to literally share life energy. Below are all the known prerequisites to achieve such a condition:_

  1. _At least two experienced Nen-users must be involved. It is unclear what defines an experienced Nen-user in this case. It is possible that the minimum requirements are mastering the four basic principles and developing one’s Hatsu into their own unique skill. However, this theory still has noticeable holes and has yet to be clearly proven._
  2. _A deep emotional attachment between the two Nen-users must be present. Additional emotional connections with any outside parties are not advised, as they may weaken and offset the desired connection._
  3. _The emotions shared between the two participants MUST be recognized and acknowledged by the both of them. This step is by far the most critical, and will jeopardize the connection if it is not fulfilled.*_
  4. _To finalize the desired connection between the two individuals’ Nen, a catalyst must be introduced. The most effective catalysts discovered so far are sexual experiences. There may be other methods of solidifying the bond, but they remain undiscovered._



_*If Step 4 is completed before Step 3, the result may be an incredibly volatile, incomplete bond. The power levels of the Nen-users involved have been known to directly affect the amount of destruction and injury caused from the bond misfiring. This condition can easily become fatal if not corrected._

Bisky felt her heart slowly but deliberately thumping against her ribs. After reading the final line of Cheadle’s notes, any nerves she’d had were abandoned. Killua’s life was in danger, and she needed to intervene for his sake. Not only for him, but for the other innocent life that was also being put at risk.

Sitting and waiting for Killua to return was admittedly one of the most torturous things Bisky had ever put herself through. She was on high-alert, and overreacted every time she heard the tiniest noise outside the cabin. The flutter of a bird’s wings startled her out of her chair on more than one occasion.

If the key and the door hadn’t made any noise, Bisky would have never known Killua was back. Instead of letting the sounds scare her away, she hopped to her feet and met her student at the door.

* * *

 

Hisoka had lived up to Kurapika’s demands the night before, and supplied him with the information he needed about the Scarlet Eyes. Granted, it was all bundled in a brown paper package that had yet to be completely inspected. A few pictures and addresses were all Kurapika had time to look at before he’d been summoned to the Nostrade Estate early that morning.

He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt as he sat in one of the velour chairs in Neon’s office. Sometimes it still felt strange to call it hers, when the space had been her father’s only a few years ago. She had since gotten rid of Light’s drearier furniture and replaced it with brighter-colored chairs and couches, dark green curtains, and a large cherry wood desk. She’d even had the walls repainted and the carpet replaced. The room surely wasn’t Light’s anymore, but it didn’t look like Neon had really chosen the redecorations either.

Kurapika had been expecting more pink, honestly.

But that side of Neon seemed to have moved on along with her father. Now, she dressed in neutral colored suit jackets and pencil skirts, always paired with sensible black heels. She kept her bright blue hair in a short, clean bob and only wore simple diamonds in her ears. Although she was only twenty-one, the way she presented herself made her seem so much older than she really was; a smart tactic for the young female head of a prestigious mafia family.

Whenever Kurapika found himself in Neon’s office, there were times he couldn’t help but remember the sixteen-year-old girl who’d taken to sleeping beneath her father’s desk almost every night, exhausted from crying and grieving. She demanded to be left alone for the longest time, and she threw a vicious fit if anyone so much as spoke to her. She barely ate, and only slept after she’d had her fill of misery.

Back then, when Kurapika couldn’t bring himself to sleep, he would sit outside the double doors to Light’s office. He listened to the soft, ragged sobs of the girl hiding beneath the desk. He knew her pain, and it hurt to hear her suffer. But he knew from experience that there was nothing he could do for her. The loss of her father was something Neon had to come to terms with on her own.

But one night as he sat in silence outside the doors yet again, one of them opened with a gentle creak.

 _“Why do you keep sitting there like that?”_ A red-faced, bleary-eyed Neon sniffled. There were dark purple bags under her eyes and tear stains on her gaunt cheeks.

 _“I . . . I’m not sure.”_ Kurapika had answered, not knowing exactly what to say.

After looking a bit unimpressed by his words, Neon had closed the door and Kurapika returned to his room. And two long weeks after that, Neon finally emerged from her father’s office.

Kurapika still recalled how stunned he felt when Neon approached him with completed fortunes for all her bodyguards in her hands. Her Ghostwriter had miraculously returned to her, and even Neon herself couldn’t believe it. Now that Kurapika had a more complete understanding of the situation, it must have been Kuroro’s death that allowed the ability to come back to its original owner.

But the look on Neon’s face was what had startled Kurapika the most. The innocence in her light blue eyes was gone. She became disinterested in her beloved shopping trips, and ended up selling every single piece of her rare flesh collection, saying that it reminded her of ghosts. She insisted on having most of her hair cut off, and she no longer wore cute, colorful sweaters. She began to wear dark make-up to conceal her true age.

And she rarely ever smiled. Once Senritsu had commented that the only person she’d ever seen their boss smile around was Kurapika.

Soon after her transformation, Neon had honorably discharged Kurapika from being her head bodyguard. He still wasn’t entirely sure he could name the reason why; though he still remained at her side as her personal advisor.

On her rise to power, Neon ended up with more enemies than her father ever had. Within the first year of her becoming head of the Nostrade family, there were more than thirty recorded attempts on Neon’s life. Dozens of her bodyguards during that time were accused of being traitors to the family, and instantly discharged or otherwise.

Bringing his focus back to the present, Kurapika thought about the way Neon’s small, stern form looked as she primly sat in the high-backed chair behind her desk. She looked petite yet oddly powerful. She was currently using a compact to apply a dark ruby gloss to her lips, eyeing the mirror intensely while she spoke. “Hisoka . . . The name sounds familiar. You two know each other, I’m assuming?”

“Unfortunately.” Kurapika mumbled, unable mask his irritation towards the man.

“Well, you must trust him to some degree. Otherwise, you would never have agreed to this meeting.”

Kurapika silently conceded to Neon’s point, crossing his legs and glancing out the large window behind him. “Five more minutes and he’ll be late.”

Neon batted her mascara-coated lashes at her reflection to assess her appearance, before closing her compact and looking over at Kurapika. “So, are we sure he just wants to talk?”

“He assured me all he wanted was to speak with you.” Kurapika saw through Neon’s stoic expression and amended, “But I won’t let him try anything. You have my word.”

An almost tired smile graced the young woman’s face, and her eyes lingered on Kurapika. “I know I can always count on you.”

* * *

 

Electricity dazzled Bisky’s eyes and crackled through the air, giving the now-decimated living room a glowing blue hue. Another electrical explosion sounded off somewhere in the cabin as Bisky stayed focused on Killua.

His limp form hadn’t moved once since she’d broken the news to him.

Even though Killua’s body looked more lifeless than Bisky had ever seen, she felt his aura dominating the atmosphere. His power completely overshadowed hers, and it was causing a severe amount of damage. Bolts of his lightening had already singed carpets and curtains, and blackened most of the walls. The windows and woodwork were starting to crack under the pressure of his Nen, and the one remaining light source above their heads flickered violently.

“You need to keep calm, Killua. Your emotions are directly affecting the amount of Hatsu you’re giving off-” The last bulb in the light fixture snapped, the glass shards raining down over both of them. Covering her head with a gasp, Bisky tried to reason, “Killua, listen to me. You’re both in danger.”

Killua seemed incapable of responding. And Bisky wasn’t sure if he could hear her or even consciously react. For the past two hours, she had been attempting to talk him out of the fit he’d fallen into. She tried to be gentle at first when Killua froze and unblinkingly stared at the floor. She patiently waited out his obvious shock and numbness, steeling herself to speak once he was coherent again.

But the moment Killua seemed to start coming back to reality, instead his aura flared to life and completely overtook him. It was heart-wrenching for Bisky to keep watching her student’s subconscious display of anger and pain, but she never once took her eyes away.

If she thought Killua had been unstable before, he was more out of control than ever now. And she had to look out for him.

Bisky made sure to keep her distance from the electrical barrier that had formed around Killua more than an hour ago. She knew he would run out of charge eventually, but if he managed to exhaust his body before then, the results could be fatal.

“Do you want me to call Gon? I know he would come right back to be here for you.” Bisky gingerly suggested, testing out her last resort.

Killua gritted his sharp teeth, and Bisky had to dart away to avoid the vicious sparks he gave off.

She shielded her face with her arms and called over the loud buzz of electricity, “Ok, ok! I promise I won’t tell him. He doesn’t have to know . . . But you have to tell your partner.”

The whole cabin went dark and silent in a blinding flash. All the machines and wiring that Killua’s electricity had tampered with were now either dead or melted beyond recognition in one swift wave of energy. Pungent smoke rose in dark coils from all the electrical fixtures, gathering and looming heavily around the two Hunters.

Getting back on her feet once the initial shell shock faded, Bisky heard harsh, labored coughing.

All the raw energy Killua had released in the hours before was finally catching up to him. He’d curled into himself as he laid on one side, clutching at his chest and hacking. To Bisky’s horror, Killua’s cough sounded wetter than she’d hoped.

Bisky knew he needed to get out the initial shock now, so he could come back with a more stable mind. But if he continued to hurt himself like this . . . she didn’t let herself think about what could happen.

* * *

 

Kurapika had to force up every ounce of patience he had to keep himself from dealing with Hisoka on his own. Neon had refused all of the man’s requests and more than once asked him to leave, but Hisoka wouldn’t budge. The three of them had been locked in a stalemate in Neon’s office for who knew how long.

But at least they hadn’t resorted to violence yet.

Despite the fact that he was on the losing end of the bargain, a superior smile curled Hisoka’s thin lips. “Have you ever wondered why that book came to you, Miss Nostrade?”

Neon looked rather wrung out as she leaned forward on her desk. She glanced at Kurapika, who still stood dutifully by her side, before she answered, “Even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.”

Hisoka didn’t bother to suppress a derisive chuckle. “It’s adorable how much you rely on your _ex_ -head bodyguard. But why fire him if you wanted him to stay so close to you?”

Kurapika knew exactly what Hisoka was trying to do. He was purposefully prodding Neon for weaknesses to exploit. And with her still being so new to directly dealing with the underworld, she would most likely fall for the traps he was setting without a second thought.

Just as Kurapika had feared, Neon’s mounting irritation was on full display.

“I won’t let you insult him.” Neon said, rising from her chair. Her eyes narrowed at Hisoka and she spat, “Get out of my estate. This is the last time I’m asking nicely.”

Hisoka’s smile only grew more wicked, and Kurapika felt the already unbearable tension in the room spike. Hisoka had found the soft spot he was looking for.

“I’ll be the first to tell you you’re wasting your time on him.” Hisoka sighed, distracting himself with his nails. “I doubt he could give you what you really want.”

“ _You_ are the one wasting my time. _Get out_.” Neon seethed, and Kurapika placed a steadying hand on her small shoulder. She immediately shook it off and shot the blond a deadly warning look.

Hisoka raised a slightly amused brow, and Kurapika recognized the particular glint in his eyes. “I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this.” Then, the man disappeared.

Kurapika rushed to step in front of Neon, attempting to act as her shield, until he felt a lightning-fast strand of Nen bind his wrists together. It yanked him back into Hisoka’s hold just as the man had rematerialized, and a razor-sharp playing card was cutting into the blond’s neck. Blood quickly began to trickle down his collarbone and soak into his dress shirt.

It was a shallow, yet lengthy incision in the skin meant purely for show, Kurapika realized.

“Let him go.” Neon tried to demand, but the edges of her voice began to shake. Kurapika noticed her hand reaching for the panic button under her desk.

“We both know that this one here,” Hisoka emphasized his words by harshly grasping Kurapika’s chin. Kurapika resisted the urge to bite him, “is the only guard you have who could stand a chance against me, Miss Nostrade. And he was so concerned with protecting you, it left him vulnerable. So, if you’d prefer him alive, you’ll show me the book.”

Kurapika looked to Neon, telling her _don’t do it_ with his eyes.

The young woman looked back at him desperately, and then up at Hisoka. “. . . Ok.”

“That’s a good girl.” The magician grinned.

Neon did not make any move to use her Nen before she commanded, “Let him go first.”

“Hm, let me think about that . . .” Hisoka’s Bungee Gun began wrenching at one of Kurapika’s arms. It reached the point of snapping his forearm in half, and then twisting the broken bones around under the intact skin.

Kurapika screamed instantly and shook in overwhelming pain. A distant thought told the Kuruta that there were definitely less dramatic ways to for Hisoka to get what he was looking for.

Neon, however, was horror-stricken. Her blue eyes were wide with panic as she watched every twinge of agony play out on Kurapika’s face. She immediately brought out her wispy, cloud-like Nen. “Please stop! I’ll give you what you want! I’ll do it . . .”

Glowing white aura surrounded her, and Neon closed her eyes as Kuroro’s Skill Hunter began to materialize in her hands.

Kurapika had broken out in a cold sweat as he shuddered, the loose bones in his arm radiating immeasurable pain. He managed to shoot a dark look back at his captor. “You sick bastard.” He murmured loud enough for only Hisoka to hear.

Leave it to the twisted magician to play such a cruel trick on an inexperienced girl.

* * *

 

The first thing Killua noticed before he opened his eyes was a needle he felt in his right arm. The next was a stiff mattress, and then the mixed scents of sterile plastic and rubbing alcohol met his nose.

Great . . . He hated hospitals.

He groaned when he tried to move; his body was stiff and extraordinarily sore. A small, gloved hand set itself on his forearm to keep him in place. “You shouldn’t be moving at all right now. Just relax.”

Bisky’s stern voice made Killua frown. He opened his eyes as much as he was able to look at her. “What happened?”

“Do you really want a reminder?” Bisky asked matter-of-factly.

Unpleasant images assaulted Killua’s mind. And he remembered the unbridled electricity that coursed through him and wore him down until he was coughing up blood. He had been completely out of control for the first time in his life. His aura had completely taken over, while his body became its lifeless vessel. He had to be knocked unconscious in order to be brought back to normal.

But he hadn’t been brought down to that level for just any reason.

Maybe Killua had known the whole time that there was more to what he and Kurapika were doing with each other, but he just couldn’t bring himself to face it. Their last meeting alone was enough to convince Killua that something strange was going on. But instead, he ignored all the warning signs and continued to lie to himself with the idea that things weren’t going to change. Everything had been changing the whole time, and Killua thought he had everything under control . . .

Once again, he proved to himself what an idiot he could be.

But, what could he do about it now? He’d lied through omission to Kurapika when they last saw each other; when he knew something was wrong but just didn’t have the guts to say anything. Kurapika had the right to know what was happening . . .

Deep remorse took hold of Killua’s lungs and throat, relentlessly squeezing down. _He_ was the reason why Kurapika’s abilities were out of control . . . Kurapika’s life had been in jeopardy for the past three weeks. Both of their lives were at risk . . .

The pounding of his heart was in his ears as Killua finally answered his Nen master. “No, I’m good . . .”

Bisky folded her hands in her lap, gravely looking down at her student. “I hope you understand how serious this is. You could have died today. And if you were to die . . . with the way your auras are now, she would die too.”

Killua forced himself to sit up, winding his body in the process. “. . . She?”

Bisky’s hands were on his shoulders, easily pushing his weak form back down. “Killua, please rest.”

“What . . . do you mean . . . ‘she’?” Killua wheezed as he fought to regain control of his breathing.

Bisky’s eyes turned owlishly wide as she blinked in disbelief. “I know you read the information I gave you.”

A coppery-tasting cough rattled Killua’s throat. “No shit . . . That doesn’t mean I have any idea who you’re talking about.”

“Watch your mouth, I’m only trying to help.” Bisky pouted. “That poor girl’s going through all this for you. I hope she’ll be able to live with that.”

It didn’t take Killua much longer to figure out exactly what his Nen master was talking about. Or rather, _who._ He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or concerned with the fact that Bisky thought Kurapika was a girl. He supposed it was for the best that he didn’t correct her as a sudden thought came to mind. “We can get rid of this, can’t we?”

Bisky’s expression was foreboding as she looked away.

“It’s just a Nen ability. If it can be created, it can be taken away. Right?”

The silence drug on.

“All Nen abilities can be removed . . . Please tell me I’m right.”

Bisky shook her head. “I wish I could. What’s happening to the both of you is not an ability. Nothing is being created in this process; it’s a convergence of two separate life energies. They don’t completely merge, but they coexist within both of you.”

“There has to be a way to separate them.”

“Not without a price. And to be honest, your connection is very powerful and it’s not even whole . . . If anyone tried to remove it, you and your partner would die.”

Killua felt violently dizzy at that moment. He clutched his head and squeezed his eyes shut as a sudden burst of static cut through his thoughts. The noise was back . . .

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here to guide the both of you every step of the way.” Bisky soothed, patting Killua’s arm. “Now get some rest. You need to focus on recovering for now.”

* * *

 

Hisoka disappeared from the Nostrade Estate after he’d gotten what he came for. Naturally, Kurapika thought bitterly as the memory of a severely broken bone caused his arm to tingle with phantom pains. He’d already healed himself, and managed to escape most of Neon’s fretting as a team of fifteen body guards stormed the office, looking for an enemy that had already vanished.

That woman was going to need more experienced Nen-users at her side if she ever hoped to survive in the underworld. And Kurapika knew from personal experience that it would take more than loss and a grudge to shape Neon into the powerful force she hoped to be.

The book that Neon had displayed to Hisoka was indeed the skill that Kuroro had once possessed; Kurapika would recognize it anywhere. And a threat of breaking Kurapika’s left arm had Neon revealing the contents of the Skill Hunter. Or lack thereof.

Hisoka seemed oddly delighted that Neon hadn’t yet figured out what the purpose of the book was. Perhaps because once upon a time, it had been unknowingly used on her.

But what bothered Kurapika the most about what Hisoka did was not the way he easily exploited Neon’s weaknesses, or the way that he’d basically dominated the entire meeting. It was what he’d whispered in Kurapika’s ear as Neon revealed the brightly glowing Skill Hunter that used to be in Genei Ryodan hands.

_“Little Neon isn’t the only one here that’s sharing Nen.”_

Sharing Nen.

It hadn’t taken long at all for Kurapika to catch on: the way Hisoka zeroed in on his aura when they first met, all the Nen-related suggestions and hints, the way almost everything Hisoka said was related to Nen connecting people.

Hisoka had been trying to drop him hints this entire time.

Kurapika’s Nen was connected to someone. It explained so much: the static in his head, and way his Nen would take over his body. It all must have been some kind of misfire in the connection, resulting in a dangerous backlash. Unfortunately, the only time in weeks that Kurapika noticed those symptoms calming . . . was when he was around Killua.

A lump formed in Kurapika’s throat and he tried to swallow it down. He needed to talk to the younger man, now more than ever.

* * *

 

Bisky had been watching over her sleeping student when she heard a faint buzzing coming from his cell phone. She noticed the screen read “Kurapika” before she answered it.

“Hello?”

“. . . May I ask who this is?” The polite, yet tense voice of a young man filtered in.

“Oh, sorry. You were probably expecting Killua.” Bisky chuckled sheepishly. “I’m Biscuit Krueger, his Nen master.”

“I’m Kurapika. His friend.” Kurapika replied, seeming more uneasy the longer he stayed on the phone. “Is he available?”

“He can’t talk right now.” Bisky ruefully admitted, glancing over at Killua’s hospital bed. “I can take a message for you if you want.”

“This is very important.” Kurapika implored. “Is there any way I can speak to him?”

“You could try calling back tonight.”

Kurapika gave an impatient huff. “I know Killua is with you. Please let me speak with him.”

Trying to keep her voice firm but gentle, Bisky asserted, “I already told you. He can’t talk right now.”

The young man had seemed to take the hint, and fell silent for a bit before saying, “. . . Will he be alright?”

“He’ll be fine, but he needs to rest right now.” Bisky assured, “I’ll try to have him call you back as soon as he’s able, ok?”

“. . . Please see that he does.”

After Kurapika hung up, it left Bisky to wonder: What could he have possibly needed to say that was so urgent?


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Killua was wracking his brain for answers. In his and Gon’s travels, they must have met a Nen exorcist somewhere . . . Names, contact information, and what they might have looked like ran through his head as he dressed in the bathroom of his hospital room.

His condition had stabilized, and he’d been officially released; two days after he’d lost control of his Nen. It was terrifying to think that a connection between himself and Kurapika could cause so much damage. Not to mention, Bisky was now looking for a new place to rent because of Killua’s most recent outburst. She said she compensated the owner of the cabin, but still . . .

Aside from the physical and mental toll, there were other reasons why this connection needed to go. It shouldn’t even exist, first of all. The prerequisites for such a thing . . . two skilled Nen-users, a deep emotional connection, admitting that those emotions exist, and a catalyst . . .

Well, of course Killua could see the obvious catalyst without needing to be told. They’d had sex about ten times now . . . But a “deep emotional connection”? Assuming that this part was even true, this rule couldn’t have been talking about actually being in love, could it?

Killua and Kurapika were very good friends and nothing beyond that.

It was just the sex that turned out to be a mistake. A mistake that was now seriously hurting both of them. Killua needed to do something about it and make things right again.

Just as Killua stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed, Bisky was staring at him flatly from across the room. “. . . I could yell at you all day about how this plan of yours is not going to work, but you haven’t listened to me yet. So I won’t bother.”

“We just made a bad choice, and it has to be taken back.” Killua announced as he adjusted a packed bag of clothes on his shoulder.

Bisky’s delicate brows furrowed. “I already said this isn’t something you can take back. And you need to tell your partner what’s going on first. I also really appreciate how you still haven’t told me what her name is.”

Killua tried to pass Bisky, heading for the door. “You two will never even have to meet if I do this right.”

Bisky immediately stepped in his way, and looked up at him chidingly with crossed arms. “You can’t go out on your own like this. Your connection is incomplete and volatile, and even though you’re both very strong Nen-users, the longest you can go without each other is maybe a week. And even that’s pushing it.”

Killua gave an unfazed shrug. “A week should give me more than enough time.”

“Are you even thinking about how this could impact your health?” Bisky poked Killua’s chest accusingly with a gloved finger. “No one knows how many years removing the bond could take off your life, if the process doesn’t kill you first. Please just be reasonable and stay with me.”

Gritting his teeth in irritation, Killua rolled his eyes and snapped, “How do you know so much about something I’ve never even heard of?”

Bisky took a moment to steel herself before answering, “The Association had a hand in making sure Hunters don’t know about this, because of how dangerous it is. If the wrong people learned how to obtain and use this power . . . It’s just a really bad thing, believe me.” The woman’s wide magenta eyes pleaded with Killua for a moment before she cleared her throat and continued, “A while ago, I was part of a research team that studied another bond just like yours. But now, most of the people who were involved with the project are either dead or in hiding.”

At those words, Killua made another move to bypass his Nen master. She got in his way again, this time with her slender arms spread out to act as an extra barrier. “I can still get in touch with one of them. And they might know a way to remove your connection without harming either of you.”

Killua weighed his options as he silently stared down at Bisky. He had to face facts: his current condition was rare . . . and it was highly doubtful that anyone else besides Bisky would really know how to deal with it. There was a very real possibility that if Killua looked to even the best Nen exorcist for help, they would have no idea what he was even talking about. And what good would it do to put his life in the hands of someone who had no clue what they were exorcising?

But here was Killua’s very own Nen master, who’d given him more answers in under five minutes than he could have ever hoped to find on his own. But just the fact that she was among his closest friends posed a whole new set of problems: how could he continue to hide Kurapika from her? And if he had to tell her, how much longer could he go without telling Gon the truth?

Killua shut those thoughts down. He needed to focus and get the connection removed quickly. The faster he could do it, the less he’d have to worry. And without the physical evidence of the bond looming over him, Killua wouldn’t have to worry about telling anyone anything.

Bisky interrupted Killua’s thoughts with a rushed, “I promise you that I’ll ask my contact if they know any way of removing it.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Killua had to choose Bisky. She was his quickest option.

* * *

 

Kurapika supposed he’d seen this coming. He’d spent the last two days calling Killua constantly, only to be sent to voice mail every time. He couldn’t bring himself to leave any messages. What they needed to talk about had to be said directly.

Honestly, Kurapika would prefer to speak in person; but if Biscuit was to be believed, Killua was incapacitated. He secretly hoped she would pick up again. He just . . . had so many questions.

He knew that Killua knew something he didn’t. There was more than enough proof in the last time they’d met, when Kurapika described the symptoms of his Nen losing control. Now he could place the emotion he saw in Killua’s eyes that day: it was recognition.

How long had Killua known about what was happening to them? Why didn’t he say anything? Did Killua’s end of the connection cause his current condition, like when Kurapika destroyed the library? And Killua’s Nen master had to be involved: she sounded much too calm and in control for someone whose student was possibly in the hospital. She most likely had the answers Kurapika was looking for. But that would mean . . .

Biscuit knew about what they’d been doing with each other. Or did she? Killua was an exceptional liar; he could have talked his way out. Or somehow led Biscuit to believe he was connected to someone else. Or he could have just left her to her own assumptions.

Kurapika knew from the start that what he and Killua had been doing was dangerous, but he never foresaw something like this. No Hunter would have ever seen this coming. Their auras were connected, and Kurapika had no idea how he was never able to see it in his Nen before.

Perhaps one just had to know what they were looking for in order to find it.

Kurapika growled softly under his breath as he got Killua’s voice mail again. Hisoka’s earlier words were starting to make more and more sense . . . Speaking of whom, Kurapika found himself immediately dialing the magician’s number.

 _“Hey.”_ Hisoka’s voice was as smooth and sensual as ever.

“I love how you act like you didn’t break my arm in front of Neon only days ago.”

 _“She has to get that fantasy of hers out of her head now.”_ Hisoka said, and Kurapika couldn’t tell if the man was teasing or just being cruel. Maybe both. _“I’m guessing she doesn’t know you’re already taken . . .”_

“You knew about my aura the moment we met in the alley . . . How did you know what to look for?” Kurapika couldn’t stop the question that spilled from his lips.

 _“I’ve seen this before.”_ Hisoka answered with a strange sigh and a chuckle. _“It’s all rather ironic that this is happening to you two, you in particular.”_

Knowing that Hisoka would only give out so much information for free, Kurapika avoided the bait he obviously set out and instead asked, “I’m sure you already know about how much damage this is causing to the both of us. Is there any way to remove it?”

 _“A master Nen exorcist would be your best bet . . . if you were to survive the impact removing the connection would cause.”_ Hisoka sounded as if he were joyfully counting on his fingers. _“Another way is to have your ability to use Nen taken away completely. And of course, death is a more permanent but foolproof option . . . Oh, if only you two weren’t so strong. A connection involving weaker Nen-users can be easily separated by any exorcist. And most of them don’t even develop a connection at all. Also, if you were wondering . . . that little vow and restriction you put on yourself is a part of your problem.”_

“And if I were to remove the vow, would that make any difference?”

 _“I highly doubt it.”_ There was a grim honesty to Hisoka’s words that Kurapika couldn’t ignore. _“You and the Zoldyck family’s heir . . .”_ Hisoka was interrupted by his own cackling laughter. _“You’ll have to tell me how that happened sometime. Did Gon finally reject him? He must have if Killua settled for you.”_

Kurapika decided that Hisoka had officially stopped being useful before he hung up.

Emptiness carved out the Kuruta’s chest and left him feeling hollow. He could fume all he wanted, but Hisoka was right. Killua was using Kurapika to make himself feel better about Gon . . . and Kurapika was letting him. 

How could he pretend, even for a second, that something more could come from what they started? Maybe it was the way Killua would smile at him or kiss him or worry about him that had Kurapika convinced that maybe . . .

Who was he trying to fool? They were having secret trysts behind both Gon and Leorio’s backs. During which they wouldn’t say each other’s names or look each other in the eye. And gods forbid it if Kurapika ever said the word “us”. They started something that was nearly impossible to get out of unscathed, and even if they both gave up Nen to stop it . . . It would permanently affect them one way or another.

Kurapika picked his phone back up and dialed Killua’s number again. They needed to talk.

* * *

 

 

In retrospect, Yorknew only had one general hospital; Killua knew he should have been more careful as he made his way out of the building.

But that didn’t change the fact that he happened to pass Hideki in the hallway.

They stopped and stared at each other, obviously dumbfounded. The man was still aggravatingly gorgeous, even in hospital scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck. Killua thought back to the time Hideki had put his hands and his breath and his suggestion of dates all over Kurapika, and hid his clawed hands in his pockets.

Hideki’s ice blue eyes narrowed, quickly zeroing in on the patient’s bracelet on Killua’s wrist. “Does Kurapika know you were admitted?” he asked.

Killua immediately regretted not cutting the plastic ring off sooner. He opened his mouth then closed it, looking away for a moment before bristling in self-defense. “He doesn’t need to know. And why does it matter to you?”

Hideki’s grip on his clipboard tightened for only a second and he rolled his eyes. “You’re really something else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Killua snapped, ready to walk out the front door that was only a few feet away. If only Killua had been faster about leaving; maybe they could have avoided each other all together.

Hideki’s eyes suddenly gained a heavy intensity as he stared holes into Killua’s head. “You’re never going to get anywhere with him if you keep acting like that.”

And with that, Hideki disappeared behind an employee entrance, the door closing behind him with a click that was far too loud.

Killua couldn’t explain the irritation laced with the slightest bit of shame that sat in his stomach. He knew what he and Kurapika needed to do, and none of that involved a . . . relationship.

* * *

 

A few short hours later, Killua and Bisky were situated in a townhouse on the very outskirts of Yorknew. It wasn’t as close to the mountains as Bisky would have liked, but on such short notice they had to make do. And Killua figured it was better that he was a bit closer to the inner city, where Kurapika lived. It would make dealing with the bond easier for now. When was the last time they’d seen each other? Only a few days ago at the most . . .

 “Can you feel her yet?”

Bisky’s constant questions were making Killua’s head hurt. His legs were folded in front of him as he sat in the middle of a fairly barren living room. He was supposed to be meditating, but every few seconds or so Bisky would ask about his progress. He suppressed the urge to open his eyes and snap at her, but instead he sighed out, “I can’t concentrate enough to think. How am I supposed to feel anything?”

 Killua heard the fluffy silk of Bisky’s dress shift as she crossed her legs. “You’re being so stubborn. Are you really that unhappy with this? I figured you’d at least want to know more so you could protect your girlfriend-”

“We’re not dating.” Killua’s hands clenched into fists in his lap.

Bisky’s confusion and irritation was palpable. “Are you telling me that you’ve fallen in love with this girl, had sex with her, and you’re not dating?”

Killua grimaced. “There’s nothing that serious going on. And the last person I want to talk about sex with is you.”

“I can’t believe you! I knew you were terrible with women, but this is inexcusable. How can you think this is ok? This bond exists because there were deep emotions running between you two before anything physical even happened. Let me tell you, Hunters have casual sex that doesn’t mean anything all the time. And I’ve been around the block long enough to tell the difference between when it matters and when it doesn’t.”

“I think I’ve heard you say the word sex enough today.” Not a moment after he spoke, Bisky’s palm shot out to connect with the back of Killua’s head, causing an audible ‘pop’.

“You’re impossible! Do you think I want to have this kind of discussion with someone less than half my age? I’m doing this for you!”

Killua jumped to his feet and glared at his teacher. “Look, this whole thing was a mistake! It was supposed to be a secret, from everyone. Even Gon. It’s part of the reason why we don’t really get along anymore.” Thinking of his best friend caused Killua’s anger to deflate. When he met Bisky’s eyes again, he was surprised to find she looked more worried than upset. “I just wish I could get rid of it, so things can go back to normal. Did that person you know get in touch with you yet?”

 There was doubt in Bisky’s stare as she focused on the floor in front of her. “They can only communicate through letters. It may be a while before we hear back from them.”

“Ugh!” Killua fell backwards on the only sofa in the room, slumping back into the faux leather and covering his eyes with his palms. “We need answers now! You said this could kill us if we don’t do something, right?”

Bisky sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “That’s why I’m trying to help you get it under control for the time being.”

The silence between them resonated for a few moments before Killua spoke up again. “So . . . That project you were a part of. What exactly was it about?”

Bisky sighed once again. “I really shouldn’t say too much. I was sworn to secrecy by the Association. But I can tell you what you need to know. The both of you need to learn about the new signature your conjunction has created. It’s a new mix, involving a new aura that you both have to adapt to. But in order for you to get used to what’s different, you have to be able to find it first.”

“But I don’t see anything.” Killua nearly whined, holding his aura-shrouded hands out to look at them. Plain, translucent Nen, looking the same as ever, was all he found.

“Sometimes it just takes a little practice, but you should get it in no time.” Bisky assured. “Think about what she looks like, what her aura feels like. You should be able to pick her out of your own signature if you do that long enough.”

Killua sighed and shook his head, getting back into a mediation stance on the floor. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to think about Kurapika right now . . .

* * *

 

It was impossibly warm, Kurapika noted.

The conjunction of two auras surrounding him should have felt foreign and unnatural, but on the contrary it was a very comforting embrace. He’d given up on trying to get a hold of Killua a long while ago, instead taking matters into his own hands and seeing what he could find out about his new signature on his own.

He could feel Killua within his own aura. And it wasn’t as frightening or foreboding as Kurapika expected. Then again, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he found himself ready to face the burden he and Killua had placed on themselves. The two auras twisted around each other in an intimate tangle of life energy. They moved and breathed as one for the most part, until tiny hiccups within the shroud made everything jitter and blur. An acute screech shot through Kurapika’s ears whenever the connection was interrupted. But soon enough, the two auras settled back down into their complex and endless circular pattern.

Just a glance at the translucent, swirling Nen around him was enough to make Kurapika dizzy. And oddly tired. Was simply using Ren draining him? He found himself leaning back in a chair in his living room, retracting the use of Ren and instead closing his eyes to search specifically for Killua’s aura again. He was getting a bit quicker at finding it each time he went to look.

After a few minutes of experimentally searching, Kurapika came across occasional flares of emotion that didn’t belong to him. They must have been Killua’s, he noted with interest. At first there were only varying degrees of intensity, and no indication of what kind of emotions there were.

But Kurapika quickly found himself catching on to these spikes in Killua’s aura. The majority of them were irritation and anger, but a few others felt faintly like despair and helplessness.

He debated trying to call Killua again. A frown snuck its way onto Kurapika’s face as he discarded that thought: he’d been trying for days to get a hold of the younger man and so far he hadn’t gotten a single answer. He could feel that Killua had been conscious for the whole day, and was getting more agitated by the second. Possibly because of Gon or Biscuit? Kurapika was unable to tell; he could only pick out so much about Killua’s state of mind.

Being so involved in the mechanisms of his aura suddenly made Kurapika wonder about Mizuken. The poor man who was only trying to help his student, and Kurapika had responded by throwing him out of his apartment in an angry rush. A pang of guilt swung through him, and in no time Kurapika had picked up his phone yet again.

“Master . . . I want to apologize for how I treated you before. It was wrong of me to overreact like that.” Kurapika timidly tucked his blond hair behind one ear. “I just want to say that I . . . I can see and feel what you were talking about now. If you have the time, I would appreciate it if you could come to my apartment, so we can discuss this properly.”

* * *

 

“This is incredible . . . There are definitely two signatures in there.” Mizuken had a magnifying glass poised over a small section of Kurapika’s aura. “I always thought that if emotions had a direct effect on Nen, then why wouldn’t there be instances of it changing our auras’ entire design? Of course, if the emotions are strong enough.”

Kurapika reminded himself to breathe deeply as Mizuken studied him. He’d been using Ren for only a few short minutes, and he was already feeling light-headed.

Mizuken noticed this and glanced up at Kurapika. “The introduction of a new aura must be exhausting. But now at least we know we’ll have to brush up on the basics again.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Kurapika asked, feeling his legs start to shake the more he remained standing with his aura on display.

“Well . . . since I’ve met him before, I recognize your partner’s aura. The bond is still very new, and it’s incredibly unstable. As I thought, it’s obviously incomplete: I can see interruptions in the pattern. But the pattern itself is highly complex, and very powerful as a result. That’s all I can determine from what I see.” Mizuken informed, setting his magnifying glass on the dining room table.

Kurapika took this as his cue to release his aura, and quickly sat back into a chair, his upper body falling on the cool surface of the table in front of him. In his haste, he’d felt one of his arms knock a paper package to the floor; the one Hisoka had given to him a while ago. It fell in a soft crinkle, and the strange sound of rustling fabric met his ears soon after.

Wiping a thin layer of sweat from his brow, Kurapika looked up at his teacher. The man’s eyes were darting from Kurapika to the floor and back again, before he picked up what fell.

“I said I would respect your private life, but . . .” In Mizuken’s hand was a silken, black and white . . . maid’s dress . . . in Kurapika’s size. A lace headband, a garter belt, lace-topped thigh-highs, and black silk panties still remained on the floor.

Kurapika was mortified, his face a bright and hot crimson. How on earth did those come into his possession? Hisoka must have been playing another one of his cruel tricks. Why would he include something like that along with the information about the Scarlet Eyes?

Kurapika didn’t have as much time to ponder it as he would have liked. Mizuken was eyeing him questioningly, looking more uncomfortable as his student stayed silent.

“Those aren’t mine.” Kurapika blurted out rather unintelligibly. He was on his knees in less than a second, gathering up the offensive clothing from the floor and then Mizuken’s hand, stuffing it all back into the paper package.

Damn you, Hisoka.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Suzaku Morinaga: forty-five years old, 5”11, black hair and eyes, with a weight of two hundred fifty pounds. A less prominent member of Parliament in the Sahelta Empire. Recently engaged to fifteen year old Duchess Lillian Xiong of Kakin. He bought his young fiancée a pair of Scarlet Eyes as an engagement present, to which she was thrilled. Despite his engagement, Morinaga continues to be a relentless womanizer, and frequents maid cafés and strip clubs while staying at his vacation home in Yorknew.

This man was Kurapika’s target.

And now the blond understood Hisoka’s intention behind the maid outfit: It was a uniform for a maid café that Morinaga frequents. With Kurapika’s Nen being as unstable as it was, he knew infiltrating in disguise was the safest option. And according to the information Hisoka included, Morinaga was leaving Yorknew tomorrow, and was taking advantage of his last night in the city at that particular location. Which gave Kurapika no time to come up with another plan.

And so here he was, at a place that looked more like a risqué nightclub than a maid café. Unbearably loud techno nearly made the walls shake as blue, pink, and purple lights darted across rows of plush velvet booths. Virtually all of the patrons were older men, at least in their forties. And it didn’t go unnoticed that they obviously lusted after the much younger waitresses. Kurapika watched as a drunken man reached out to grab at one of the girls. She effortlessly sidestepped him and pranced away, but Kurapika still spared a moment to feel disgusted. That could easily end up being him.

Kurapika yanked the short yet voluminous dress down his legs, hoping it wasn’t advertising him as much as he feared. It was odd, only feeling nylon up to the middle of his thighs, then the straps of the garter belt, and then basically nothing else. His head was covered by a long blond wig that matched his natural hair, and he’d even applied make-up: mascara, eye-liner, blush, and a dark lip gloss he’d seen Neon wear once. He still wobbled just a bit on black and white heels, and the panties definitely felt unnatural.

The last time Kurapika cross-dressed was when he’d posed as a receptionist and captured Kuroro with his chains . . . He hoped he could still pass for the opposite gender as he moved through the booths, reminding himself to use his hips more as he walked.

The first thing he did was inconspicuously run by a bar in the back of the club, to grab a small black tray with what looked like a gin and tonic on top of it. Kurapika sauntered away, flashing a winning smile to a few nearby men who were watching him. As long as he acted like he belonged there, no one would suspect a thing.

It wasn’t too crowded for a weeknight, which Kurapika was grateful for. He easily spotted Morinaga in a corner booth. The man’s arms were snaked around two brunette waitresses, who were obviously pretending to enjoy his inebriated company.

Kurapika had to get Morinaga’s attention and get him alone. But how to do that? Kurapika approached the booth, sensually swaying his hips and pinning the man with a flirty smirk. “Looks like you girls are having fun. I’m jealous.” He pouted as cutely as he was able, never once taking his eyes from the man between the waitresses.

Morinaga’s unfocused gaze immediately started undressing him, and it was exactly the opening the blond was looking for. Kurapika looked the man up and down while sliding his free hand up a bare thigh, making his dress ride up and nearly expose the panties underneath. “I want to play, too. But, I don’t share . . .”

He knew the exact moment Morinaga’s mouth went dry. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us.” He tapped them both on their behinds as a cue for them to leave, and they seemed more than happy to relinquish their spots at Morinaga’s sides. They both shot Kurapika a silent ‘thank you’ with their eyes.

Kurapika set the tray with the drink down on the table before delicately taking a seat close to Morinaga. “Akihiro sent me a beautiful blonde. You’re just what I’ve been looking for.” He trailed a thick hand down Kurapika’s face and brushed a thumb under his bottom lip.

The man must have been talking about a manager. Without missing a beat, Kurapika leaned into Morinaga’s touch and batted his eyes as he purred, “Of course. Think of me as a present . . . from him to you.”

“Is that so?” Morinaga asked with a slight hiccup. His breath reeked of sour alcohol, and Kurapika had to force himself to get closer.

Just as Morinaga moved in for a kiss, Kurapika pushed a finger to his lips and smiled mischievously. “You don’t think your present will be _that_ easy to unwrap, do you?”

The man almost looked offended before he flashed a toothy grin. “You’re feisty. I like that.”

Kurapika spent at least half an hour entertaining Morinaga, watching him continue to drink and acting interested in every word he said. He made sure to nod and smile at all the right times. Suddenly, Morinaga wrapped an arm around Kurapika’s waist and squeezed him tightly. “You’re so . . . gorgeous. I’m sure Akihiro wouldn’t mind me . . . borrowing you for the night.”

Kurapika giggled, keeping his voice at a feminine pitch as he whispered in Morinaga’s ear. “The point of a gift . . . is that you can do whatever you want with it, Mr. Morinaga.”

The man’s free hand threatened to crawl up Kurapika’s chest as he breathed, “Please, call me Suzaku.”

“Yes, of course . . . _Suzaku_.” The emphasis Kurapika put on Morinaga’s name was enough to make him fidget impatiently in his seat.

Morinaga immediately pulled away to call for his limousine, staring hungrily at Kurapika the entire time.

Up until now, Kurapika felt very in control of his situation, leading Morinaga on and doing a damn good job of having the man play right into his hands. But now, as a man he barely knew eyed him so carnally, deep fear permeated his stomach. Morinaga didn’t even know Kurapika’s true gender: would he still have to sleep with him? The man was most likely drunk enough to not even care what Kurapika’s gender was, as long as there was a place to stick his cock.

Immense guilt struck Kurapika straight after when flashes of silver hair and sharp blue eyes raced through his mind. His heart fluttered wildly, knocking around in his chest and making him feel sick. Why did he feel as though he was about to do something immoral?

. . . As if he was preparing himself to cheat on Killua.

* * *

 

Killua reached a breakthrough with his aura. For one fleeting moment, he’d caught onto a strange pulse in it. Something he didn’t cause. It was as if . . . he’d felt someone else’s emotion. It felt oddly enough like someone else was disgusted with something, and yet Killua could nearly feel the emotion as if it was his own.

It had to have been Kurapika.

Killua’s eyes snapped wide open, and he murmured to himself, “I felt him.”

Bisky threw down the magazine she was distracting herself with and instantly came to her student’s side. “You finally felt her??” she asked, her eyes shining in anticipation.

“Yeah.” Killua met her gaze, feeling immeasurably grateful that Bisky hadn’t heard the pronoun he’d accidentally used.

“What was it like?”

“It was weak, but I felt something. I picked up on some kind of emotion.”

“Oh good! You’re sensing how she’s feeling!” Bisky practically beamed. Pride emanated from her as she continued on. “You know, if you were to keep the bond and develop it, you would be able to read each other’s emotions at any time, and even use your matching signatures to track each other if you needed.”

Killua gave Bisky a disapproving look. “I already said we’re not keeping it, Bisky.”

The woman visibly deflated at those words. “It would be so much safer for you both if you did. Can’t you reconsider it?”

“Look, I’ve already made up my mind-” Killua was unable to finish his sentence as a terrible feeling from his aura overtook him. Vulnerability, fear, and deep guilt hit him all at once. But the absolute helplessness that coated them all was the most troubling. The blood in Killua’s veins turned to ice as he realized that those strong, crystal clear emotions were coming from Kurapika.

“I can track him, right?”

Killua met Bisky’s wide, disbelieving eyes. “What?”

“You said I can track her.” Killua flawlessly corrected himself, but Bisky didn’t look entirely convinced.

“You can’t do that right now. Your bond needs to be complete first.” Bisky’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did I hear you right that first time?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, no. I think you do.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Killua Zoldyck, I swear if you walk out that door without explaining yourself-”

Killua disappeared in a burst of bright blue electricity before Bisky could say anything else.

* * *

 

Kurapika felt his palms start to sweat as he and Morinaga made their way out of one of the club’s back entrances. How was he going to pull this off? He hadn’t planned on having _relations_ with his target, but if it was what he had to do . . . He banished flashes of silver hair and blue eyes from his mind as his stomach flipped.

Why on earth did he feel like he was about to cheat on Killua? The idea was ridiculous. They weren’t even in a relationship. No matter how much he wished things were different, in the end it didn’t matter what he did . . .

But why was he assuming he had to sleep with Morinaga in the first place? The man was already intoxicated when Kurapika entered the nightclub. All he would probably need is a few more drinks once he was in his home, and Kurapika could steal the eyes while he was unconscious. And he still wasn’t sure what might happen if Morinaga found out what he really was.

Kurapika almost couldn’t believe what he was doing. Normally his plans to take back the Scarlet Eyes were so carefully laid out with every detail and every possible scenario accounted for. The spontaneity of it all reminded him of Gon and Killua . . .

At the mention of the latter, guilt tightened around Kurapika’s heart yet again. Why? They were _not_ in a relationship. He didn’t need to tell Killua anything.

They were in the back of Morinaga’s limousine before Kurapika was ready for it, and the man wasted no time in trying to sneak his hand under Kurapika’s skirt. He playfully batted the hand away and held his skirt down, shaking his finger chidingly at the man. “Ah, ah, ah. All good things to those who wait.”

“What if I don’t wanna wait anymore?” came a husky, drunken question before lips were sloppily attacking Kurapika’s exposed neck. A large tongue and clumsy teeth licked and scraped against Kurapika’s skin as Morinaga tried spreading the blond’s legs to lay on top of him.

“Ah! Mori- Suzaku! Wait!” Kurapika pushed the man away by his shoulders, remembering to keep a feminine pitch to his voice at the last minute. Although, Morinaga probably wasn’t sober enough to care about how his voice sounded at this point.

Morinaga backed off with a bit of an irritated huff. “What’s wrong?” he groaned.

“I want to wait until we get there.” Kurapika said as alluringly as he could. With a teasing nip to the man’s ear, he whispered. “We’ll need a bed for the things I want to do to you.”

Morinaga was more than content to polish off a bottle of wine and leave Kurapika alone after that. The Kuruta breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was safe for now.

* * *

 

Kurapika wrinkled his nose at the lavish, extravagant mansion that was Morinaga’s vacation home. The more he hunted for the Scarlet Eyes, the more he came to despise the rich and privileged. Why did they collect horrifying things and destroy lives of innocent human beings for their own personal amusement? Kurapika supposed that too much power and money could lead to corruption. But even that didn’t seem like a good enough excuse.

After exiting the limo and being assured that the soon-to-be Mrs. Morinaga was sound asleep in her own room (five doors down in the western hall), all the servants and guards were ordered to leave the floor, to ensure their master’s privacy. And soon enough, Kurapika was led to a huge, darkened bedroom. He was unceremoniously shoved back in the middle of a king-sized bed.

“Here’s the bed you wanted, gorgeous.” The man slurred, pinning Kurapika to the mattress and proceeding to tear through the satin of his dress.

It took Kurapika less than a second to hold Morinaga off before he could deliver a swift, Nen-enhanced blow to the back of his neck.

All of the man’s unconscious two hundred fifty pounds came down on the Kuruta instantly. Wiggling out from under Morinaga’s body, Kurapika assessed the damage to his only clothes. The skirt had been ripped up the side, clearly showing the black panties underneath, and one of the ruffled shoulders had been torn. To add to it all, Kurapika caught sight of thin trails of blood running down his leg and an arm under the destroyed clothes. Morinaga must have scratched him with his nails while drunkenly clawing at the dress.

Kurapika didn’t feel the very minor injuries, and aside from all that, the dress still somewhat covered him. He proceeded to take off his high-heels and hold them while sneaking quietly out into the hallway.

Remembering the door that was mentioned as being Lillian’s, Kurapika soundlessly slipped behind it.

The girl was as young as Kurapika had heard, judging by the looks of her. If he hadn’t been sickened enough by the situation, he felt his stomach roll at the innocent-looking, sleeping face of the little girl that lecherous older man was going to be claiming very soon.

Although, in Kurapika’s eyes, this girl was not any better. Excited by receiving disembodied human eyes as an engagement present? He couldn’t fathom how some people could behave like that and find it acceptable.

Going back to the task at hand, Kurapika didn’t even have to search for the eyes. In fact, they were sitting out on the nightstand next to the girl’s bed, seeming to act as a night light as their crimson glow warmed the darkness of the room.

Without sparing another thought, Kurapika gathered the eyes in his arms and opened one of the large windows. After closing it behind him, he used his chains to lower both himself and the eyes safely to the ground before taking off as fast as his could; before Morinaga was found and he was pursued.

* * *

 

Killua nearly pitched his phone against Kurapika’s living room wall. He’d called the Kuruta again and again, only to receive no answer. He sent another frantic text.

_I need to know you’re ok. Answer me, damn it_

The emotions Killua felt from Kurapika were so overwhelming. Guilt, shame, and such a powerful fear that he could barely guess at what was going on. And try as he might, he was no closer to being able to track him. He only hoped that the Kuruta was ok, wherever he was.

* * *

 

Kurapika was vaguely aware that it was around three A.M. when he wearily entered his apartment. He closed and locked the door behind him before pulling the wig off his head and tossing it, along with his heels, carelessly to the floor.

After turning the kitchen light on, he gingerly set the Scarlet Eyes on the counter. He touched their glass reverently before closing his eyes in prayer. He whispered words in his now-dead native tongue to the remains of his brethren, whoever they may have been.

He absolutely hated that he couldn’t tell one pair of eyes from another. They could be their leader’s eyes, they could be his mother’s or father’s, they could even be Pairo’s . . . And yet he had no way of knowing . . .

Kurapika finished his prayer and kissed the glass. Hopefully he was able to give peace to another restless, wandering soul of his family.

Suddenly, hidden aura flared to life in a shadowed corner of the living room. Kurapika summoned his chains on instinct, and then quickly dismissed them as he realized he recognized that aura.

“Killua?” Kurapika asked, bewildered.

The younger man stepped out of the shadows, his eyes narrowed in displeasure. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Kurapika was at a loss for words until he realized what Killua was referring to: he was still in a tattered maid’s outfit, laced with his own now-dry blood.

But all too quickly, the blond narrowed his own eyes in response. The flare of anger he felt from Killua spurred him on as he curtly answered, “I think the better question is what are you doing in my apartment? I didn’t give you a key.”

“I thought something happened to you. I’ve been calling you all night.” Killua spat, clenching his fists.

The resentful tension radiating from the younger man grew, and Kurapika retorted, “That doesn’t mean you can break into and enter someone’s home-”

“What are the scratches from?”

The blond folded a hand over his injured arm and looked away. The scratches still didn’t hurt, and he didn’t need to be interrogated. Not after the night he’d just had. “They’re nothing serious, and they’re none of your business.”

Killua’s eyes darkened to a dangerous royal blue as he hissed, “Why did you let him kiss you?”

Kurapika was taken off guard by a rage that wasn’t his boiling in his aura. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a man’s _spit_ on your neck.” Killua angrily flexed the claws that had appeared on his right hand. “Why? Did he go any farther with you?”

“Why does it matter?” Kurapika immediately found himself biting back.

Killua proceeded to ignore the blond, close his eyes, and then deeply inhale. A moment passed before he affirmed, “He didn’t.”

The last of Kurapika’s patience vanished as he slammed his fist on the countertop. The blow threatened to crack its surface as he shouted, “Why the hell do you care?!”

Killua didn’t answer or so much as flinch. He only stared at Kurapika; his mouth pressed in a thin line and his narrow eyes a deep, enraged blue. Kurapika could feel surges of Killua’s emotions coursing through him, constricting his lungs and throat. There was fury, deep pain, disappointment . . . and a sense of betrayal.

Killua was acting as if Kurapika really had cheated on him.

And for a moment, Kurapika couldn’t believe it. He blinked in silence, his eyebrows drawing together as a tight frown formed on his lips. The guilt from before came rushing back to him, but confusion lingered behind it now. Why was their agreement coming to this?

The absolutely pained looked on Killua’s face was enough to make Kurapika say, “It’s not like I wanted to do anything with him. I pushed him away when he tried.”

“. . . _Why_ would you do something like this . . . ?” Killua’s voice wavered, and he bowed his head.

He was starting to shake.

His breathing was erratic.

And finally a cold, merciless sadness rained down on Kurapika.

The Kuruta cautiously approached the younger male, trying to find his blue eyes again. Kurapika got close enough to reach out for one of Killua’s quivering shoulders. But just before he touched him, a pale hand knocked his own away.

“Don’t.” Killua rasped, quickly wiping his eyes with a sleeve and looking back up. “Just _never_ do anything like this again, with anyone else. Got it?”

Once again, Kurapika found himself not knowing what to think. The same young man who was afraid of a simple two-letter word, was demanding exclusivity. He was almost speechless. Almost. “I shouldn’t have to listen to someone who’s been lying to me.”

Killua clenched his fists at the blond’s words. “So _I’m_ the liar now?”

Kurapika didn’t back down as he asked, “How long have you known about the connection between us?”

Killua opened his mouth, and then closed it. His eyebrows drew together and he looked away. His anger seemed lost in the guilt that surfaced on his features. “What could I have said to you? I didn’t even know for sure if there was a connection until I was told literally three days ago.” A nervous hand ran through silver hair. “I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me before, and even if we both knew back then, what could we have done? We still know next to nothing about this.”

Kurapika knew, begrudgingly, that Killua had a point. What was happening to them was nothing Kurapika had ever heard of in his career as a Hunter and a Nen-user. Would he have taken Killua seriously, if Hisoka hadn’t said anything? And what could they have done without any proper guidance? Even Kurapika’s own teacher, an incredibly seasoned Nen expert, had no way to help him.

“You could have at least tried to say something.” Kurapika dismissed Killua under his breath as he leaned against the counter. An odd brush of cold air and fabric against his upper thighs reminded him of the dress he still wore.

He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed about being seen like this. He was far too upset and confused to be bothered by such a trivial thing.

What were they going to do about the connection between them? They couldn’t ignore it, they couldn’t get rid of it . . . And they still barely knew how to deal with it as it was . . .

In the middle of his thoughts, Kurapika felt the tiniest sliver of arousal slip into his aura. He looked over to see suddenly interested blue eyes running up and down his body, particularly at the tear in his skirt that revealed far too much. He immediately shot Killua a disapproving look and a raised brow. “Really? Right now?”

* * *

 

Killua found himself taking in what Kurapika was wearing as soon as the blond leaned against the counter. He couldn’t help but notice the way the torn skirt exposed one of Kurapika’s bare thighs. Killua hadn’t been trying, but his eyes still darted up and down every inch of silk, lace, and exposed skin. A frilly choker decorated the blond’s neck like a collar. The thigh highs and garters stretched tight around his long, smooth legs. The small dress clung to his slender torso and flared out at his hips, and a delicious hint of silk panties taunted Killua through the large tear in the skirt. Even the make-up Kurapika wore was enticing in the way it accentuated his already-stunning features.

“You’re beautiful.” Killua found himself saying out-loud.

Kurapika however, braced himself against the kitchen counter, looking ready for another argument. Killua felt the blond’s trepidation roll through his own aura. “If you think I’m doing anything with you in this, you’re insane.”

Killua raised an unimpressed brow at the blond. “So you’ll dress up and lead on gross old men, but I’m an afterthought?”

“Look at what’s on the counter, Killua. I didn’t do it for fun. If there had been another way to do this, I would have gladly taken it.” Kurapika tucked his hair behind an ear and looked away. His voice was a quiet whisper when he admitted, “And I . . . was thinking of you the entire time.”

Killua’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest at those words. And then he realized that all those powerful emotions he felt from the blond earlier . . . were because he was thinking of Killua. The fear, guilt, and vulnerability that Killua picked up on earlier were for _his_ sake. Kurapika had been thinking about him the whole night . . . “You’re beautiful. I really mean that.”

Kurapika’s uncertainty crossed Killua’s aura, and the blond said without any bite, “I shouldn’t have to tell you I’m not a girl.”

“Did I call you one? You don’t have to be a girl to be beautiful.” Killua simply responded. “And if I have to, I’ll keep telling you you’re beautiful for as long as it takes, until you believe me.”

The Kuruta seemed to lose the will to verbally respond. But every time Killua called him beautiful, he felt something from the blond. Not quite arousal, but something stronger. Something more permanent.

The unknown feeling was terrifying and thrilling all at once. And all of a sudden, it was surprisingly intimate for Killua to know he was now able to read Kurapika in a way that no one else could. He took a step forward, and the older male seemed to mimic him. Almost on cue, they looked away from each other at nearly the same time.

“So you’d never dress up for me? Not even if I asked?” Killua found himself saying, a light hint of teasing to his voice.

“Why haven’t I thrown you out yet?” Came a defeated mumble.

Killua felt a small smirk curl his lips. “Because you don’t want to.”

The silence that followed told Killua he was right, and the blond bowed his head.

In what was probably the smallest voice Killua had ever heard from him, Kurapika said, “I literally know how you’re feeling. I can almost figure out what you’re thinking . . . And I don’t know what to do with that knowledge.”

It really was surreal, feeling the emotions of another person as well as his own. Killua was starting to do it without even having to concentrate anymore. It was becoming second nature almost too quickly. It was even getting hard to tell where Killua’s own consciousness ended and Kurapika’s began.

But at the present, Kurapika was desperately looking Killua in the eye. His worry and guilt hit Killua straight on as he determined, “This is my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I should have said no the first time. I should have stopped you.” Kurapika shook his head, his eyes downcast and not really seeing the floor they stared at. “I was being so irresponsible and _selfish_ -”

“Stop saying things like that.” Killua pulled the guilt-ridden Kuruta into his arms and held him there, despite the tiny efforts he made to get free. They remained that way for a long while after the blond stopped struggling, and Killua idly observed how physical contact did directly affect their auras. He took in how soothing it was to simply touch Kurapika. It calmed his nerves and the frayed energy that was his Nen.

Kurapika slowly lifted his head, and his soft bangs brushed Killua’s chin. “It’s true. If I would have just said no, none of this would be happening.”

“You’re forgetting something.” Killua dipped his head lower to press his lips to Kurapika’s ear before he whispered, “I would have convinced you to say yes.”

Killua sensed Kurapika’s consent to that statement without needing to hear a word. He gently toyed with strands of blond hair between his fingertips as he took a few seconds to process what was really happening between them.

They couldn’t hide anything from each other. Not anymore.

Killua saw crimson pulse in Kurapika’s disguised irises, shining through the black contacts for only a moment and paired with a fleeting pang of desire. It made Killua cup the blond’s face in his hands and bring the older male closer. Kurapika then made a tentative move to place his hands on Killua’s hips.

“This is what got us into trouble in the first place.” The Kuruta barely murmured against Killua’s lips. His words were a loose warning at best, but there was still caution behind them.

“There’s a way to fix this.” At Killua’s answer, Kurapika’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened, ready to speak. Killua could feel the blond’s shock and amended, “I need you to trust me. We’ll fix this, and everything will be fine. I promise.”

“But-”

Killua guided their lips together before Kurapika could say anything else. He felt the blond’s trepidation melt away as he gently coaxed his mouth open. The older male’s reservations were quickly disappearing, and Killua noticed thin hands carding through his hair and down the back of his neck. He gave a small gasp into Kurapika’s mouth and shivered at the touch. Their lips parted for a moment, and they opened their eyes only partly to assess each other. To make sure what they were about to do was really ok.

All of Killua’s rational sense left him when he found sparkling, blood-red eyes staring alluringly at him. _He_ caused that passionate color to pulse through Kurapika’s eyes. And all of the Kuruta’s rapt attention was on him as his scarlet eyes begged Killua to _kiss him again_.

Another white-hot jolt of longing, from the both of them, slid thickly down Killua’s spine and clouded his thoughts. He couldn’t help but give into Kurapika’s unspoken plea. They kissed again and again until Killua had to remind himself of his own name.

The room was spinning. Or maybe it was just him. But all Killua knew was that the only thing he saw clearly when he opened his eyes was the Kuruta in his arms. He pulled away from a kiss and turned his head into Kurapika’s soft blond hair, fondly nuzzling him.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the conflicting scents of orchids . . . and an intruder who Killua swore he would hunt down and _end_.

Almost too suddenly, something powerful and frightening threatened to yank Killua’s insides out. A hatred he couldn’t describe throbbed through his veins the more his thoughts raced. He was so _angry_ at the dead man who _dared_ to touch and kiss Kurapika. He stared down at the blond’s bare neck. The neck that was tainted by the foul-smelling saliva of another man . . . The neck that was Killua’s alone to taste and mark and _claim_ , and no one else could have it . . .

Killua swore he was being driven insane. The scent of the man’s filthy hands was all over Kurapika. Around his hips, up and down his chest, _under his skirt_ . . .

Killua completely snapped. He pinned Kurapika hard against the kitchen counter behind them, and without thinking he bit down on the older male’s neck. Hard enough to draw blood.

Kurapika’s pained gasp was paired with a spike of pleasure that stabbed right through Killua. He could feel Kurapika’s blood pulsing beneath his teeth and an erection pressing against his own through the layers of the silk skirt. Killua released Kurapika’s neck and shoved the fabric up to brutally grip his hips, shamelessly grinding against him.

It felt so undeniably good to thrust Kurapika into the counter again and again as he gasped and panted, his hands grasping at Killua and searching for something to hold onto. Killua tasted traces of blood in his mouth as he grabbed Kurapika’s chin, forcing him into a wet, coppery kiss.

And Kurapika didn’t seem to mind at all. As they kissed, the blond went for Killua’s pants, taking a brief moment to unzip them and push everything down only enough to bring his cock out. Killua’s responding growl was deep and animalistic, vibrating in Kurapika’s mouth as the Kuruta started stroking the hot organ with a dexterous hand.

Killua reached under Kurapika’s skirts again to palm the blond’s erection through his wet panties. The Kuruta broke away from the kiss and keened, struggling to move his trapped hips into Killua’s touch.

“Killua . . .” Kurapika suddenly moaned as his burning scarlet eyes met narrowed dark blue, and it set Killua’s blood on fire.

“Again.” He growled, almost on instinct. He needed to hear it again.

“Killua!” Kurapika cried out, bucking into Killua’s hand. He wrapped his arms around Killua’s neck and pulled him in for a demanding kiss that was all tongues and teeth.

Not able to help himself, Killua manipulated one finger into a claw and hooked it under Kurapika’s lacy panties. One swift movement had the destroyed scrap of silk falling to the floor in pieces.

Kurapika’s flush deepened, and his eyes shone even more brightly through his contacts once the panties were cut off. In that moment, Killua realized that being rough was seriously turning the blond on. He immediately took advantage of this and flipped Kurapika around, bending him over the counter. He pinned him down with one hand while flipping his skirt up with the other.

Killua had been imagining what it would be like to fuck Kurapika in a dress, and now that it was happening, complete with thigh highs and garter straps that curved along his full, prefect ass . . . He grabbed and squeezed the firm flesh, possibly a little too hard, but Kurapika still mewled in anticipation. Killua slid his unbearably hard, leaking cock right against the blond’s opening, craving the feeling of tight, warm muscles enveloping him. Then, the body below him stiffened.

“No.” Came a soft command.

Killua instantly backed away at the word and at the sudden unwillingness that flowed around them. Kurapika righted himself and pushed away from the counter, his blond bangs hiding his eyes.

Killua opened his mouth, ready to apologize for taking things too far, until strong yet thin hands took him by surprise and pinned him against the counter, right where the older male had been.

Kurapika’s bright, enticing eyes seared right through Killua and he used a fair amount of strength to hold the younger man in place by his hips. He initiated grinding their cocks together and murmured sensually into Killua’s ear, “I told you I’m not a girl. You’re not fucking me while I’m wearing this.”

“Then take it off.” Killua huskily countered as Kurapika started sinking his own teeth into Killua’s neck, albeit far more gently than Killua had. And Killua had to admit, there was pleasure to that kind of pain as he threw his head back and moaned.

Kurapika bit and sucked at Killua’s neck for a bit longer before he shot the younger man a determined, lustful crimson look. “Why can’t I fuck you?”

Overpowering Kurapika’s physical strength, Killua switched their positions back to where they’d started. “We’re not playing that way tonight.” He ran his tongue along Kurapika’s marked neck, tasting blood again while finding his way under the skirt. The blond simultaneously moaned and flinched at the contact, and he pulled Killua closer.

Killua found the blond’s soaking wet erection, just as his own was resting heavily in Kurapika’s hand. They fell into a rhythm of stroking each other and searching for reactions, twisting their wrists and lightly teasing with fingertips.

Kurapika was _very_ good with his hands, Killua realized as he found himself melting into firm touches that smeared precome all over his cock. The way the blond would grip him and grind his thumb into the head had Killua shuddering and panting in ecstasy.

He couldn’t deny that Kurapika was fucking beautiful as he cried out and mewled and strained to move his hips despite the fact he was pinned in place. His scarlet eyes fluttered open and shut as he took to mimicking Killua’s every move with his own hand. When Killua squeezed him, Kurapika squeezed back, and when Killua’s strokes became harder or faster, he followed suit.

They watched each other’s eyes, when they weren’t closed in pleasure. Killua was entranced by the way Kurapika panted heavily with slightly parted lips. A dark pink flush on his cheeks complimented his glittering red eyes as he pinned Killua with a fixated stare.

The intensity of Kurapika’s focus on Killua alone was enough to make the edges of his consciousness unravel. His free hand reached out to grab Kurapika’s hip in a moment of lightheadedness, for something to hold onto. He’d barely registered that they had combined their efforts somewhere along the way, and Killua’s hand was now curled around Kurapika’s as they worked their erections together.

The scent of the air around them changed, and Killua knew the blond was close. Both their cocks throbbed, and Kurapika’s moans got louder as he threw his head back in sheer bliss. Killua gravitated back to the blond’s injured neck, threatening to open up the wound further with his teeth and tongue.

“Ah, ah! . . . Killua!!” Kurapika truly screamed with reckless abandon, the sharp thrusts of his hips only bringing Killua closer to the edge.

Every muscle and nerve in Killua’s body tightened as he released a pleasured groan. Pure white noise invaded his aura, surrounding him and ringing overwhelmingly in his head. He met Kurapika’s burning eyes once more, and something within Killua’s chest purred in satisfaction at the sound of the blond’s gorgeous voice calling out for him and him alone.

_Scream my name. Let everyone know who’s taken you._

The scent of sweat and blood and just the tiniest flick of Kurapika’s wrist had Killua coming violently, all over the blond’s pretty dress. Kurapika’s release came seconds after with a fluttering cry that was one of the most beautiful things Killua had ever heard.

They held each other as they breathed raggedly in the silence that followed. Kurapika shook and convulsed in Killua’s arms, still riding out his orgasm. And no matter how far gone he was in that moment, Killua made sure to hold the older male upright. His legs would probably give out if Killua let go.

* * *

 

A while later, both young men had showered and dressed in loose, comfortable night clothes. No words had been exchanged between them as they laid side by side in Kurapika’s bed.

And in that moment Killua wondered to himself: Why was he still there? What were they doing? Why did it feel like they were in so far over their heads? And why was it all starting to feel strangely natural?

The older male sat up, still shirtless due to the red, swollen wound on his neck. Killua almost regretted biting him _that_ hard . . . Almost.

Kurapika had quietly summoned his chains and brought out a familiar cross-shaped charm.

“Don’t heal it.” Killua heard himself say, and Kurapika looked back at him fractionally with an unreadable hazel eye.

Kurapika complied, the chains disappearing from his hand as he laid back down. The silence between them wasn’t stale or awkward: it was intimidating. And Killua had no idea if he could find the right words to say to make up for it.

They eventually fell asleep together, just as the sun was beginning to rise.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for being so patient with me :)

As of now, I will be back with regular updates. But instead of continuing to do them weekly, I have to extend them to every two weeks. I wish I could get the chapters out to you all faster, but I have actually been in the process of preparing to move across the country. Also, my partner and I have decided to add two new fuzzy members to our family before we make the move. We’ll definitely have a busy few months ahead of us, haha.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I truly appreciate all of your support and patience. I can never find the words to express how much it means to know you all care. Thank you again.

* * *

 

_Biscuit Krueger,_

_Your correspondence was intercepted by the Zodiacs and incinerated. You, as with all the veteran M5 team members, should already be aware that all intended communications with Subject M must be submitted to and approved by the Association beforehand. Please adhere to the rules and regulations in the future if you wish to retain your Hunter License._

_Best Regards,_

_14 th Chairman Cheadle Yorkshire_

Bisky crumpled Cheadle’s letter with a scowl, thinking about setting it on fire just as they had done to hers. Were the Zodiacs really threatening to violate the third Hunter Commandment and revoke her license? She had the same rights as any other Hunter; and right now, her student and his partner were in danger.

Despite her anger, Bisky had a plan for either outcome that could have resulted from sending that letter.

And it was never in her nature to be unprepared.

* * *

 

Everything was getting out of hand. Kurapika couldn’t deny that fact any longer.

He couldn’t remember how long he’d been awake that morning, sitting in his dining room and silently begging his ancestors and all that powers that be for forgiveness.

How could he have just _forgotten_ that the Scarlet Eyes were still in the room last night?

The family member in question was now hidden by a simple white sheet, while Kurapika stared at their form beneath the fabric. Covering them would not solve any of his problems, but perhaps it was a respectful step in the right direction.

Morning sunlight rose in golden patterns over the creases of the sheets as the day developed. And as Kurapika sat and watched it, a heavy weight dropped into the bottom of his stomach. He knew he and Killua had a tough decision to make . . .

Speaking of the younger male, he was still asleep in Kurapika’s bed; despite the fact that he was usually an incredibly light sleeper. And even though Killua was asleep, Kurapika almost felt trapped by the constant presence he felt in his aura. He felt every slow, languid breath Killua took. He could easily tell whether Killua was dreaming or not; in this case he wasn’t. There were even moments where the blond picked up on a relaxed heartbeat. And they weren’t even in the same room . . .

Feeling the younger man like this was as beautiful as it was heart-wrenching. Kurapika was beginning to feel, dare he say it . . . _attached_ to his connection with Killua. He was also starting to wonder why it would be such a terrible thing if they were to keep it . . . But then, he remembered why they weren’t going to . . .

Killua didn’t want it.

Kurapika knew Killua wanted no part in anything concerning the word “us”. No matter how confusing the younger male was becoming.

Last night, particularly, had been a spectacle in itself: Killua had basically accused Kurapika of being unfaithful in a relationship that didn’t exist, and then forbid him from ever doing it again. All of Killua’s self-imposed rules concerning sex had also magically vanished: he commanded Kurapika to moan his name, they had looked straight into each other’s eyes nearly the whole time, and for a brief moment, Kurapika had even been allowed a taste of dominance. Killua openly held him after they’d finished. He told Kurapika he was beautiful so many times . . .

Kurapika’s fists clenched in his lap. It was possible that Killua was still suffering because of Gon. It was possible that Killua just wasn’t ready to commit to anyone because of that. But why was he demanding Kurapika’s loyalty when he wasn’t ready to reciprocate?

And no matter how desperately confusing Killua was being, Kurapika could not deny the fact that Killua still didn’t want their connection.

_“We’ll fix this, and everything will be fine.”_

What exactly had Killua meant by those words? Hisoka himself had told Kurapika that there was no feasible way to get out of their situation . . . What could Killua possibly have been talking about?

Maybe Biscuit was privy to something Hisoka wasn’t, and she told Killua?

Kurapika laid his head down on folded arms and heaved a sigh. It was still too early for him to be making assumptions. The only way he would find out anything was if he were to speak with Killua.

Kurapika’s stomach instantly turned itself inside-out at that thought. He was really dreading the idea, but it had to be done. There were so many things they needed to talk about.

The moment Killua opened his eyes nearly startled Kurapika into shutting himself in the bathroom. The blond’s heart rate tripled when he sensed Killua walking silently down the hallway. He froze in his chair and his mouth suddenly refused to open. What could he say?

Killua was standing only a few feet behind him now. He was obviously worried and cautious, and Kurapika knew this without even having to turn around and look at him.

“What’s wrong?” the question made Kurapika flinch.

As the Kuruta stayed silent, a sense of shock and embarrassment blossomed from Killua.

“Oh shit. Babe, I’m so sorry.”

Kurapika wasn’t sure what he was more confused by: the apology or the pet name. He turned around to see Killua slightly flushed and staring wide-eyed at what was on the table . . . Oh.

“I forgot they were there, too. Don’t worry.” Kurapika answered flatly, sparing a glance at the covered remains of his family.

After a few moments of nervous fidgeting, Killua came around to sit next to the blond. “So that’s not what’s really bothering you?”

Kurapika inwardly cursed. They really had no secrets from each other. “I . . . Killua, we need to talk.”

Killua appeared emotionless at those words, but beneath the mask laid an icy fear and apprehension that was enough to make Kurapika feel sick. The Kuruta also noticed he would not be able to read Killua at all in that moment, had their connection not existed.

The younger male was silently waiting for Kurapika to continue. But not without holding his breath first.

The blond tried his best to calm his pounding heart. There were so many things they needed to talk about. He wasn’t sure what to say first, and he ended up asking, “What did you mean by saying things could be fixed?”

“Oh, that.” A bit of relief had calmed Killua’s nerves. “Bisky studied another connection a while ago. She was part of a team of people that did. So she knows someone that can help get rid of this. I mean, it might take a while to hear back from them, but-”

“I’m sorry, what?” Kurapika was sure his surprise was palpable, even though Killua could feel it regardless.

“Bisky knows someone that can get rid of this.” Killua repeated, gesturing to the both of them. “So there’s nothing to worry about. All we need to do is wait for a while and deal with things as they are.”

“Forgive me for not following, but . . . I was told that there is no way out of this.”

“By who? Someone who doesn’t know what they’re talking about?”

 _“Try Hisoka.”_ Kurapika swallowed those rather foreign words before they had the chance to escape his mouth. They really were starting to pick up each other’s speech patterns . . .

Killua gave Kurapika a pointed glance. “I highly doubt anyone else knows more about this than Bisky does. We just need to stick with her for now, ok?”

The blond’s jaw clicked shut as he conceded to that fact. Biscuit was their only hope right now.

Before any kind of awkward silence could settle between them, the muffled ringing of a cell phone came from Killua’s pants pocket. The young man reacted to the oddly specific-sounding tone, and Kurapika immediately shot him a suspicious look. “Is that who I think it is?”

Killua looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Answer it or I will.”

Killua hurried to retrieve his phone much faster than Kurapika expected.

“Hey-”

Bisky’s reply was angry and loud enough for Kurapika to hear. _“First off, don’t you ever lie to me like that ever again. Second, I’ll be out of the city for a few days on urgent business that needs my attention. And third, put him on the phone.”_

Killua tilted his head and said flatly, “I can’t promise anything, ok, and no.” Despite his sudden mask of confidence, Kurapika sensed a thick layer of apprehension lingering beneath it.

_“Killua, this is important. Give him the phone.”_

“I’ll give it to him when you hang up- Hey!”

Kurapika snatched the phone out of Killua’s hand and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

There was a stunned moment of silence on Biscuit’s end. _“. . . Kurapika?”_

“Yes. The other aura you detected in Killua is mine.” Kurapika confirmed. There was no need to try covering anything up now.

 _“I just . . . I had no idea.”_ There was a brief rustling on the other line, and Kurapika could bet that Biscuit had found a place to sit down.

“It’s a long story, but I can explain everything in person later.” Kurapika offered, but he received no response for quite some time.

He was starting to doubt Biscuit was still on the line before she finally spoke again. _“Killua and I have been staying in a place on the outskirts of the city. He knows where it is. You two need to go there as soon as possible and read the files that are on the desk in my room. They should give you a more complete understanding of what’s going on. I wish I could be there to help you, but this is all the more I can do for now. Please make sure you and Killua stay together at all times.”_

* * *

 

Whenever Kurapika didn’t know something, he always did his best to thoroughly research it and make sure he was prepared for just about anything. But as he stared at the thick, towering stacks of manila folders on Bisky’s desk, he wondered how many days and sleepless nights it would take him to do that . . .

Lucky for him, he had a completely unwilling partner to help.

During the two hours they’d spent in the townhouse, Killua and Kurapika were holed up in Biscuit’s room and scouring the files she mentioned. Kurapika was tackling the papers on the desk while Killua had taken a few stacks with him to the floor. As Kurapika opened up yet another folder to read more densely written material, he rubbed at one of his eyes. The latest Chairman of the Hunter’s Association was nothing if not verbose . . .

_“. . . The consequences of Nen-users developing feelings for one another seem to be in tiers according to intensity: the first tier is the most common and leaves no tangible trace at all. The second leaves more noticeable changes, such as unconsciously picking up one another’s habits and mannerisms, but nothing ultimately life-changing or threatening. The third and most powerful tier we have seen so far is a merging of the auras involved. Project M currently revolves around a bond of the third tier, so as it stands we collectively have the most knowledge about it. There is no clear explanation why the tiers function the way they do. Perhaps the skill levels of the participants and the depth of the emotions involved may affect the impact of a bond . . .”_

Kurapika leaned back in an office chair, removing his straining eye from the seemingly endless towers of paper. “Speaking from Cheadle’s perspective, she seems to think there are strict rules and categories for this. But honestly, I don’t think there are. Nothing concrete anyway.”

“You don’t need to get all philosophical about this.” Killua yawned as he flipped through the research in front of him like it was a book he didn’t care for. “We just need to find the files that will help for now.”

“All I’m finding are observations of a ‘Subject M’, but that entails a completed connection. So it doesn’t really apply to us.” Kurapika was almost used to feeling the slight tremor that always came from Killua when he said that last word. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes before a sudden idea struck him. “I need to tell you something.”

The sound of a file being set down was Kurapika’s cue to keep talking. “What if I told you Hideki and I will be going out this Friday?”

An immediate spike of annoyance and jealousy flared out from Killua. “I can tell when you’re lying, genius.”

Kurapika raised a brow at the younger male. “But you still got jealous.”

“No, I didn’t.”

The blond wasn’t surprised to feel a vibration in his aura that acted much like a lie detector. “I felt your jealousy the moment I said Hideki’s name.”

“How would you feel if I said I was going out with some other guy behind your back?” Killua snapped with a very displeased frown.

Despite feeling Killua get more and more irritated, Kurapika continued to look puzzled. “You wouldn’t be going behind my back because you told me first.”

Pale hands scrubbed at silver hair in exasperation, “Ugh! Do you really not get this?”

“From what I gathered, we agreed to be friends with benefits. So I’d like to think I understand our situation.”

Killua had opened his still-frowning mouth with some sharp retort poised on the tip of his tongue, but his phone went off in his pocket yet again. And this time, all it took was a quick look at the screen.

All of his attention was stolen in that moment as he rushed to answer it.

 “Gon!” He’d greeted his friend with a wide smile. “Hey, where are you? How’ve you been?” Without sparing another glance at Kurapika, he left the room to continue talking.

Kurapika knew who was on the other line before Killua even spoke.

He felt Killua’s heart race as soon as the younger man saw who was calling him. He caught sight of the slightest blush on Killua’s cheeks, and watched how he jumped to answer Gon’s call. He could feel how excited Killua was to speak him. He could feel the fondness, longing, and _love_ that wove itself deep into Killua’s signature the more the two talked . . .

And then, Kurapika suddenly felt like an idiot.

He couldn’t compete with Gon for a place in Killua’s life. He couldn’t trick himself into believing Killua wanted anything more than his body and the physical comfort that came with it. He found himself unwilling to play the game of supposed commitment that Killua had dragged him into.

Because Kurapika knew that the minute Gon came back into Killua’s life, he stopped being important. And it almost hurt more than Kurapika could bear.

The weight of that cold, hard truth choked the breath from his lungs. It made the backs of his eyes burn. An icy regret constricted his chest. He held himself and fought to regain control of his breathing. He’d opened himself up too far and let Killua get too deep under his skin. He let this happen, and he knew . . .

Tears clouded his vision, and he immediately shut his eyes.

He couldn’t do this now. Not with Killua being so close. Not when Killua had the ability to read him like an open book . . .

The light, carefree aura in the other room was now tainted with concern. Kurapika could hear the younger man’s tone of voice changing as well. And then he’d started walking back towards Biscuit’s bedroom.

Kurapika hurried to wipe his eyes with a sleeve. He sniffled and tried to breathe deeply in the hope that he could calm himself before Killua came back. The hot, red splotches on his face would surely give him away anyway.

“. . . It was really great hearing from you, but I have something I need to take care of . . . Yeah, you too. See you later.” Killua was just outside the room, and something about his voice didn’t sound nearly as content as it had before.

Killua appeared in the doorway, facing Kurapika with worry etched into his features. His eyebrows raised and his mouth twisted downward as he caught Kurapika right in the middle of wiping his eyes again.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he’d asked, his tone gentle and laced with caring concern.

Kurapika sniffled again, unable to hide the tears that continued to sting his eyes. “Leave me alone.” He managed to choke out.

Killua got on his knees in front of the blond, trying to brush away fresh tears with his fingers. “Baby-”

“Stop calling me that!” Kurapika shouted as he jerked away from Killua’s touch. “I can’t take feeling you right now . . . Just get away from me!”

Killua was still in love with Gon. He was still in love with the wrong person. And he was stringing Kurapika along like it all meant something.

The Kuruta shot up from his chair, feeling his eyes searing with scarlet heat as well as the shock and hurt coming from Killua. He swiftly grabbed Killua by the shoulders and forced him out of Biscuit’s room.

“Kura-”

Kurapika caught a glimpse of wounded blue eyes before he slammed the door in the younger man’s face. He viciously locked it, and fumed in the resounding silence.

* * *

 

It took Kurapika nearly forty-five minutes to calm down and completely collect himself. He took a few deep breaths and made himself leave the large bed in the corner of the room. He and Killua needed to talk, with no further interruptions this time.

The younger male was still sitting outside the doorway that Kurapika had shoved him through. His aura was nearly comparable to a dark, dreary cloud as it hung heavily in the air around the both of them. Kurapika was genuinely starting to feel awful about how he treated Killua. He knew he shouldn’t have blown up at him like that . . .

He felt Killua perk up with hope as he unlocked the door and twisted the knob.

The younger man was instantly standing before Kurapika and blurting out, “Ba- Kura- . . . I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you. What did I do wrong?” His hurt blue eyes darted from Kurapika to just about everything else in the room, as if he was afraid of looking at blond the wrong way.

Kurapika was almost ready to hide in Biscuit’s room again at those words. _“You need to talk to him.”_ came a chiding voice in his head. But he remained as stoic as possible as he opted to announce, “We need to stop having sex.”

Killua merely blinked, his eyes devoid of nearly every emotion except shock.

“What we started is not healthy. It’s causing both of us more harm than good. We need to stop before things get any worse. Do you understand?” Kurapika hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so clinically, but if he got the point across . . .

Instead, Killua’s features adopted a critical look and he asked, “Where did this come from?”

Kurapika had to look away as he said, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I should have said something earlier . . .”

“We don’t have to stop now-”

“This is _not_ negotiable.”

Killua threw his hands in the air, and Kurapika caught a glimpse of his fangs as he nearly shouted, “Why are you mad at me? What did I do?”

“You’re still in love with Gon.” The admission fell out of Kurapika’s mouth without any thought, and he felt the instant rift it created.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The low, lie-detecting vibration in his aura only made Kurapika angry. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Kura-”

“I saw it in your smile. I heard it in your heartbeat . . . I felt it in your aura. You’re still in love with him, and there’s no room for anyone else!” Kurapika slammed the door in Killua’s face for the second time that day.

* * *

 

The last chance Bisky had to check the time since she’d landed in Yorknew, it was around midnight. She had barely gotten her bags in the door before immediately sensing something foreboding. She was admittedly worn out from her one-way return flight. She would have gladly slept in the airship, if a certain student of hers hadn’t kept her awake with his constant texts . . .

She hardly had enough time to get out of her destination’s airport when Killua had started sending her message after message. He was begging her to come back because something had happened, and of course Bisky hurried to get on a returning airship straight away. That was, until she figured out more than halfway through her flight what the real problem was.

_I don’t know what to do._

_He won’t tell me anything._

_He won’t come out of your room._

_I tried talking to him, but it isn’t working._

Bisky blew her blonde bangs out of her eyes as she thought about the countless texts Killua sent her. He needed her to come back early to break up a lover’s spat? Really? She really could have used more time . . .

Not caring about all the luggage she left in the hallway, Bisky headed up the stairs to see Killua sitting morosely next to her surely-locked bedroom door. He reminded her of a scolded, depressed cat in the way he curled his knees up to his chest and stared pensively at the carpet.

Pity tugged at a corner of Bisky’s mouth. She watched Killua for a while until deciding to break the silence. “Have you tried knocking?”

“It wouldn’t matter now. He’s asleep.” Came a monotone reply.

Bisky blinked at Killua’s easy admission. “You can already tell this early on in the connection?”

“Sometimes I can feel his heartbeat. I think he was having a nightmare a little while ago.”

Bisky was, for lack of a better description, floored by what she heard. Their bond was incomplete, and they weren’t even getting along . . . how in the world were they progressing so fast?

“Let’s just get some sleep for now, ok?” Bisky gingerly suggested while holding a hand out for her student. “We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

After a moment of bleakly staring at her outstretched arm, Killua got to his feet on his own and disappeared behind his bedroom door.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning turned out to be rather gloomy. There were no signs of the usual songbirds that rose with the sun. There was no golden sunrise pouring through the kitchen window, either.

And yet Bisky still sat at a small table and watched thick, gray clouds roll their way through the atmosphere. It would surely rain at some point today. She raised a cup of tea to her lips as she thought about her current position.

She still hadn’t quite accepted that Killua _lied_ to her about the identity of his partner. She couldn’t explain how angry she’d been when she found out in what felt like the hardest way possible. But then again, it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to find out that Killua was gay. Now that she knew, she would admit that it wasn’t all that surprising.

What upset Bisky the most was that Killua put both himself and his partner at risk simply to save face. Why would he think that was ok? Her fingers tightened around her cup as she stared into the amber-colored liquid. She was thinking so hard she almost missed the sound of someone coming down the stairs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lock you out of your own bedroom last night.” Came a rather subdued, polite voice that was so much smoother and gentler than Killua’s.

Kurapika was standing awkwardly at the base of the stairs, his slightly unkempt hair and wrinkled clothes giving away that he’d slept in them last night.

Bisky tried not to dwell on how beautiful he was. She tried so very hard. But despite all of his current messiness, she couldn’t help but glance over his delicate yet strong frame. He was on the shorter side, with slender shoulders, thin hands, long legs, and hips that were just a tiny bit wider than she’d expected. Not to mention his feathery blond hair, large hazel eyes, soft jaw line, and shapely lips.

A distracted thought told Bisky that Killua chose well.

“Don’t worry about it. He really can get on your nerves sometimes.” she jokingly admitted before patting the chair next to her. “Come sit down. I don’t think we’ve really had a chance to talk face-to-face before.”

The blond gracefully took a seat while Bisky rose from hers to pour a second cup of tea. She handed it to him before curiously asking, “How long have you been friends with Gon and Killua?”

“At least six years, I believe.” Kurapika answered, seeming distracted as he gazed at the weather outside. Rain had just begun to drizzle down the large kitchen window.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Bisky reminisced as she too picked a drop of water on the glass to follow with her eyes. “I remember them both talking about you on Greed Island. All good things, I promise.”

“Really?” Kurapika looked genuinely surprised as he turned to Bisky.

She nodded with a smile. “I’m glad I finally met you. Although I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You and I both.” Kurapika sighed wistfully. He leaned on the table and nearly bowed his head. His eyes gained a glassiness Bisky wished she could read as he continued, “I never meant for anything like this to happen.”

Bisky picked at the stitching in her skirt for a moment before she gained enough bravery to say, “I don’t want to overstep my boundaries, but can I ask what kind of relationship you and Killua have?”

Kurapika swallowed thickly and averted his eyes. Discomfort pulled at his features as he tucked his hair behind an ear, and Bisky noticed a piercing there: a delicate ruby earring. “I’d like to ask him the same question.”

“. . . You know why the connection between you exists, right? You’ve read Cheadle’s notes?”

“I did glance over them.” Kurapika started, “But there are some points I don’t agree with. I understand that there must be some form of order to how this bond between Nen-users works, but is it really so strict and rigid? Human life is not so easily defined by rules.”

“Her notes aren’t the most reliable. But they’re the best we have right now. If Killua wasn’t being so stubborn about this, there might’ve been a chance to revise them.”

“He’s already told me that you know something about removing the connection.”

Bisky cleared her throat almost awkwardly after a sip of tea. “Well, we might be jumping the gun a little with that. I didn’t get the chance to speak to someone I know that could have helped us.”

“That was why you had to leave the city.” Kurapika simply affirmed.

“Yes. Because Killua insists on getting rid of the connection, and I’m honestly not even sure if it can be done.” Bisky said with a worried look. A distant clap of thunder sounded, and the rain went from a slight drizzle to an almost downpour. The two of them continued to sit in amenable silence and watch the weather thrash through the tree tops.

“Kurapika?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me why Killua is being so impossible about this?”

Kurapika solemnly nodded. An almost pained look played out on his face before he said, “He is in love with Gon, and Gon rejected him. That is essentially where everything started.”

Bisky pressed a fist to her mouth in thought. Now Gon and Killua’s distance from each other made a lot more sense . . . “And where did you come in?”

“I was the one who encouraged Killua to confess in the first place. But I didn’t think Gon would take it so badly. After that, Killua stayed in my apartment with me for a while, so he could have some time to think  . . . and we just got too close. He somehow expects to keep what we’re doing a secret from everyone we know.”

“It sounds like there’s more you’d like to say.”

Kurapika blinked in surprise and looked to Bisky. “It’s a rather long story . . .”

“You can start from the beginning. I have plenty of time.” Bisky reassured, and she could swear she saw a grateful glint in Kurapika’s eyes.

He did indeed start all the way from the beginning, from when he’d first found out that Gon and Killua were in Yorknew over a month ago . . . It was admittedly adorable to watch Kurapika stumble around the more risqué parts of the story with his overly-proper language, but thankfully he never divulged more than he needed to.

“Up until last night, I was convinced that somehow Killua would change his mind. That he would start wanting the bond between us. But, he spoke with Gon yesterday and I . . . felt everything that Killua did. It was one thing to just know how he felt about Gon, but to see it, hear it, and feel it all at once. And knowing that he’ll never-” Kurapika stopped himself and gently bit his bottom lip, as if he felt he’d said too much.

It took everything Bisky had to not reach out to the heart-broken blond at her side. “You really love him.”

Pure devastation creased Kurapika’s features, and he nearly hid his face in his hands. “It’s too late. Even if we remove the bond, this will change our friendship forever. I’ll never be able to look at him the same way again. I don’t even know if I could bear being in his life after this-”

Kurapika went perfectly still in that moment, his eyes unblinking and incredibly focused on the window in front of them. His interesting mix of Nen flared to life, and Bisky could only assume that he sensed Killua waking up.

The way they were connected was almost frightening. Bisky couldn’t imagine what kind of power they would hold if their bond was complete.

* * *

 

Killua wanted to apologize more than anything. He wanted to take back whatever he said or did, so that Kurapika might hate him a little bit less.

From the moment he opened his eyes, he could tell the blond had already been awake and was wracked with deep regret. He was so full of guilt, anger, and a mourning that Killua couldn’t understand. And all those inner feelings were wrapped in a thick, menacing barrier that held a very specific message only for Killua:

Don’t come near me.

Why did that simple message cut so deeply? Killua couldn’t take not knowing what he’d done to deserve this kind of scorn from the blond. And no matter how frightened of facing him he was, Killua knew he needed to. He rose from bed, not caring about the state of his hair or the fact that he’d slept in the same clothes from yesterday.

Killua deserved to know why Kurapika literally pushed him away when all he’d tried to do was help. Killua distantly registered that he’d never seen Kurapika cry before yesterday. What had pushed him to do so in the first place? Feeling the blond’s emotions at that moment had been disconcerting: At first, Killua had been easily talking with Gon about his trip with his father, and then a sudden emotional blow hit Killua like a punch in the stomach. He felt the strong inner core of Kurapika’s aura fade away to dust, and its empty ethereal skeleton threatened to collapse in on itself.

Killua couldn’t get off the phone with Gon fast enough. When he saw Kurapika slouching in his chair, wiping his wet eyes and sniffling ever so slightly . . . He spoke without thinking, wanting nothing more than to make Kurapika smile again. But then, Kurapika rejected him and yelled at him, his eyes a hellish, fiery red. And that was when he’d thrown Killua out and locked the door not once, but two times that night. Killua felt a strange sensation of falling then, just as he realized he had done something that couldn’t be taken back.

But he still had no idea what it was.

His determination to approach Kurapika and figure out what he’d done wrong had never been stronger as he left his room and went down the stairs.

Was he really all that surprised to find Kurapika with his back turned, also in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, and nearly shattering a tea cup in a vice grip? If auras could produce noise, Kurapika’s would have been hissing menacingly at Killua as it rose and fell in vicious waves of energy.

“I need to talk to you.”

The cup gained its first crack. “I’d rather not.”

“You aren’t allowed to run away from me.” Killua felt his eyes narrow naturally as he got more upset. “What did I do to make you like this?”

Kurapika set the mug down gently, turning to face the younger man as he remarked, “Honestly, Killua. I didn’t think you were this stupid . . .”

“Please just say what’s upsetting you! I really don’t understand what’s wrong, and I wish you would tell me.”

At those words, a scarlet-eyed Kuruta gracefully rose from his chair and stared Killua down. Killua could almost say he hated it when the blond’s eyes turned that shade of crimson. It was a cold, rigid glow of malice, weighed down and restricted by its own rage. When Kurapika’s eyes were scarlet in the bedroom, it was a whole other world of red. The color was molten, free to move and flow and _sparkle_ in his irises. The true beauty of Kurapika’s scarlet eyes was something only Killua was lucky enough to witness.

His enraged eyes paled in comparison to the memories only he and Killua knew.

“I am going to say some things I should have said a long time ago. And I need you to be quiet and _listen_.” Kurapika waited for a moment, as if he were assessing Killua’s silent response, before continuing. “What we have been doing together has changed how we will see each other forever. And contrary to what you’ve fooled yourself into believing, getting rid of the bond we have is not going to ‘fix’ what we’ve done. The best it would do at this point is cover our tracks.”

Killua did not speak, but he implored Kurapika to answer his earlier question with pleading blue eyes.

That was when Kurapika’s anger faltered. He looked as if he were trying to breathe around a lump in his throat as he admitted, “I felt your love for Gon yesterday. Your powerful, unyielding, unconditional love for someone who is not capable of truly loving you back in the way you want. And to be honest, I find it ridiculous that you still cling to your feelings for him-”

“Did you really think five years of feeling that way would just vanish?” Killua suddenly spoke up, despite their earlier agreement. “Everything’s not as easy as you make it out to be!”

“What happened to you remaining silent until I was done speaking?”

“I won’t let you blame me for the way I feel. This . . . _thing_ we did was only supposed to be sex, and it backfired! Seems like a lot of things like to blow up in my face these days, so why not continue the pattern?”

“Have you ever thought that maybe it was because you made bad choices in the first place?”

“So you’re telling me that I was the only one who made a bad choice here? It takes two people to fuck, baby.”

“I swear to the gods, if you call me that one more time.”

“You don’t seem to mind it while I’m drilling you. Baby.”

The fire in Kurapika’s eyes was indescribable.

And all too late, Killua realized he’d made yet another grave mistake.

“I-” Killua wasn’t given time to even begin his sentence. Kurapika was already at the front door.

“Don’t follow me, don’t talk to me, don’t contact me.” The Kuruta gave a heavy sigh. “. . . I need space from you right now.”

The door closed so quietly behind Kurapika that Killua barely heard it.

* * *

 

Bisky patiently waited out the silence. She had already thrown away the cracked cup and was now rinsing out her own in the sink. Killua however, was mentally in shambles as he paced in the living room, calling Kurapika over and over again. Two of the light bulbs in an overhead fixture were already blown to pieces, and Kurapika hadn’t even been gone for a few minutes.

Wait. Make that three.

Bisky had gained so much insight on the two males’ relationship just by listening to their argument. Of course, some parts of it were obviously not meant for her ears . . . but it was no wonder they both exploded at each other without even caring that Bisky was in the room.

“Kurapika, please pick up. It’s fucking pissing outside and I wish I knew where you were . . . I’m such an idiot. Goddamn it!” Killua stopped pacing and hung up his phone. “I have to go after him.”

“Leave him be.” Bisky called over her shoulder.

Killua’s disbelieving eyes were on Bisky in an instant. “Are you kidding me? You weren’t even supposed to hear any of that. This isn’t your fight-”

“Don’t try to feed me that bullshit, Killua.” Bisky simply warned. “This officially started being my fight when you begged me to come back to the city; because you couldn’t handle him on your own.”

If this were any other situation, Bisky would have basked in Killua’s silence. But unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to be vengeful now. She came out to the living room and couldn’t help but feel sorry for her student.

Bisky suddenly remembered the phone call she’d had with Silva Zoldyck. It felt like it had been an eternity since then . . . but as she helplessly watched Killua flounder in his own confusion, she herself began feeling like a parent. She still recalled when he was only twelve and innocently looking to her for guidance in Nen. She remembered all his snarky jabs at her age, and all the petty squabbles between him and Gon that she had to break up.

To be honest, the only difference between then and now was that a few years had passed. Her student was an adult now, and there were certain responsibilities that came with such a title.

“All this time, I was trying to keep things from changing. I thought we could just do this and no one would know . . . But he’s right. From the beginning, he was right . . . I need to find him.”

Bisky stood in Killua’s way as he tried to leave the room. “You need to listen to him for once and stay put.”

Killua almost looked ready to argue with his teacher, until a look of realization lit up his bright blue eyes.

And then, he placed his hands in his pockets, bowed his head, and gave Bisky a demure, “You’re right.”

* * *

 

Kurapika stared out at the rain, unable to shake thoughts of Killua from his mind. His phone had stopped vibrating a while ago, which most likely meant the younger man had given up on trying to reach him. Or maybe he would wait an hour and try again, as he was prone to doing . . .

Icy claws had taken hold of Kurapika’s heart and _squeezed_ when Killua cut him down so viciously. He still felt the frigid pounding of the organ in his chest; Killua’s words had gone for his jugular and bit down hard. Kurapika had to force up every ounce of patience he had left to make himself leave, before he said or did something they would both regret . . .

He was so dangerously close to telling Killua he was done with whatever game they were playing. Because that was all it was supposed to be, if Killua was to be believed. And nothing Kurapika could ever do would change his mind.

Why would he regret turning his back on Killua? . . . Well, the better question was why was he holding out for something that had such a slim chance of ever being?

“Hey, cheer up. It’s only rain.” Came a scruffy voice that brought Kurapika’s mind back to where it was supposed to be.

“I’m sorry, Leorio. I shouldn’t let myself get so distracted.”

Kurapika had met Leorio at a small espresso bar a few blocks away from his apartment. They had spent time idly chatting about this and that, but every few minutes Leorio had some kind of remark about how sad Kurapika seemed. And even though years of distance had passed between them, Kurapika was almost relieved that Leorio’s ability to know how he was really feeling hadn’t changed.

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m just glad we were able to spend some time together, since I’ll be going back home in a few days.” Leorio smiled almost sadly. “But before I go, I wanted to tell you something.”

“You’re setting me up with another friend of yours.” Kurapika teased, a tiny smirk hidden behind a chai latte.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Leorio rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “But no. It’s actually something I’ve been waiting for the right moment to say. I’ll tell the other boys later, but I wanted to tell you first. It feels right.”

“Just say it. The anticipation is killing me.” Kurapika playfully implored.

“Well, he goes nothing.” Leorio took a deep breath in, and on his exhale he said, “I’m getting married.”

Kurapika’s jaw did not drop, but his eyes did widen. “Leorio, I  . . . Congratulations. I had no idea.”

Leorio bit his lip, looking akin to a scorned child before saying, “You’re not ok with it.”

“No, no! Not at all. I’m just . . . surprised. That was . . . very sudden news.” Kurapika stumbled over his words, not knowing quite what to say to make up for his awkwardness.

Leorio raised a brow in response. “You don’t still like me or anything, right?”

“Oh goodness, no. It’s not that at all.” Kurapika had to smile at the caution in Leorio’s features. “I really am happy for you. I’ve just never met your bride-to-be. Who is she?”

Leorio immediately fished around in his jacket for his wallet. He displayed a picture of a smiling young woman with curly auburn hair and clear blue eyes. There was a light dusting of freckles on her fair skin. “Her name is Robin. I met her while I was in school. We started dating almost instantly. And it’s been a few years since then, so we moved in together and decided to make everything official.”  Upon closer inspection, Kurapika spotted a modest diamond on Robin’s right ring finger.

For reasons he didn’t understand, Kurapika suddenly felt like crying. Here Leorio was, one of his best friends, and his steadfast support system for so long; becoming a responsible adult and getting his life together to move toward a better future, for himself and for his fiancée. And here Kurapika was stumbling around in countless messes he’d created for himself. He still had the rest of his clansmen’s eyes to find and bury. He was still heavily involved in the mafia; something he should have shaken off years ago. He had to get himself out of the underworld. He needed a clean slate. If he ever wanted a proper future with  . . . _No._

How stupid could he be?

Killua didn’t want a future. Killua wanted sex and secrecy with no strings attached. Kurapika fought the urge to bury his face in his hands when his heart throbbed painfully.

A strange yet familiar feeling from his hybrid aura interrupted Kurapika’s thoughts. Killua’s concern was so easy to pick out now; and it was almost always directed at him. Kurapika couldn’t help but mentally snap back at him a rigid _leave me alone_. And surprisingly, Killua’s presence backed off.

Regardless of how he felt at the moment, Kurapika turned back to Leorio and offered a smile. “I’m so happy for the two of you. I can’t explain how wonderful it is to know that you’ve found someone so special, who is willing to hold your hand and take this step with you.”

Kurapika honestly felt that way. Leorio was such a kind and gentle person, and he was Kurapika’s best friend. He absolutely deserved to find love and happiness. But thoughts of Kurapika’s own life continued to invade his mind; thoughts of the other aura his own was intertwined with. Of the silver-haired young man who was impossible to deal with . . . and here was the Kuruta’s best friend finding the perfect partner and marrying her. And if her picture was enough to go by, she must have been glowing with joy when Leorio presented that ring . . .

In the darkest parts of Kurapika’s heart, he would admit he was jealous. If Kurapika was ever stupid enough to present Killua with a ring, the result would be cataclysmic, to say the least . . .

But this was about Leorio right now, and Kurapika wanted to support his friend.

“Thank you, Kurapika. It means so much to hear you say that.” Leorio was practically beaming at the blond. “But, now I have something else to say. Or to ask, really.”

Oh no. Not more news. Kurapika braced himself before asking, “What is it?”

“I want you to be my best man.”

A rush of emotion caught Kurapika off guard, and now he wanted to cry for completely different reasons. All previous thoughts flew away from his mind, and he felt himself choking up a bit as he replied, “I would be honored.”

It was funny how a few years could change things.

Kurapika felt pure joy in imagining a blushing, glowing Robin walking down the aisle toward a proud, beaming Leorio. And Kurapika would be there, standing at the side of the altar as they exchanged their vows and sealed them with a kiss.

Leorio reached across the table and shoved Kurapika playfully, “Hey, don’t go all soft on me.” He laughed while not-so-discreetly wiping his own eyes.

The taller man’s laughter was contagious, and it made Kurapika giggle along with him. “When is the wedding?”

“We have no idea.” Leorio leaned back in his chair with a huge, toothy grin. “Robin and me always just kind of winged things, to see where life would take us. It’s one of the many reasons why I fell so hard for her.”

Seeing Leorio so carefree and content made Kurapika’s heart swell. “She sounds perfect for you. I’d love to meet her.”

“Speaking of which, when were you planning on telling me about you and Killua?”

Of course, Kurapika had to pick that moment to try sipping at his latte again. He coughed and sputtered for several seconds, clutching at his chest and taking in deep gulps of air after he regained the ability to breathe.

Leorio looked understandably concerned and hurt. “Were you really not planning on saying anything to me?”

“How did you-?”

“It took me a while, but I eventually figured it out. You and Hideki had been getting along so well, I was so sure something would come of it until Killua got involved. And then Gon mentioned Killua’s sexuality and how you two were closer now, so I put two and two together. Then I realized he wasn’t being overprotective; he was jealous of Hideki and upset with you. And now that I think about it, if I were him I would have been mad too.”

“Leorio, I don’t think-”

“Don’t try to play dumb, Kurapika. It never suited you.” There was an air of tension to their conversation now. “I wish you two the best of luck, but as your friend I have a right to say how I feel about this. And I don’t think it’s smart for you to be dating someone who’s five years younger than you. Not to mention, he’s one of our closest friends. What could possibly happen to our friendships if you broke up? Would me and Gon be forced to choose sides?”

“I’ve spoken to him about those same concerns.”

“And can I ask why you’re both keeping Gon in the dark?”

“I . . . if I tell you this, you have to swear to keep it between us.” Kurapika leveled Leorio with a firm look.

Leorio’s silent agreement prompted Kurapika to continue.

“We don’t know what we’re doing. There’s something there, but we don’t have a name for it.”

Leorio looked very disappointed. He ran a hand through his short black spikes and sighed in exasperation, “Kurapika . . . I thought you were smarter than this . . .”

“Strangely enough, I thought I was, too.”

“Experimenting with your eighteen-year-old best friend? Kurapika, we’re not teenagers anymore, you can’t lead around an impressionable kid-”

“Killua is not a child anymore.”

“Ok, I won’t say anything else.” Leorio showed his palms in surrender. “I just . . . I really hope you know what you’re doing. For your sake and for Killua’s.”

Kurapika hid behind his now-empty paper cup as he and Leorio remained quiet. They had looked away from each other quite some time ago, and Kurapika wished he knew what he could say to make things better. But Leorio suddenly cleared his throat and started speaking.

“Now that I think about it, picturing you two together is . . . kind of adorable. I feel like you’d have no trouble understanding each other; I mean, your childhoods were hell and you’ve both grown past them and work to better yourselves every day . . . You could be the perfect support system for each other; not to mention your straight-forwardness balances out Killua’s flippancy. Killua could get you to lighten up every once in a while. And you could actually get Killua to stop and think before he does something stupid . . . Wow, I think you might not only work, but you could end up being very good for each other.” Leorio finished, his eyes wide and bewildered.

Kurapika found himself having similar thoughts, lately. He was already seeing a few of the positive influences he’d had on Killua and vice versa. The bad still outweighed the good at this point, but the potential for more was there. He wondered if Killua could see it, too . . .

“I wouldn’t try saying any of that around him.” Kurapika admitted ruefully, “We’d only end up fighting again . . .”

“You can’t really blame him for acting like that, though.” Leorio reasoned with a hand to his stubble. “Think back to when _you_ were eighteen. What were you thinking and feeling then?”

Kurapika had to roll his eyes at that question. He knew Leorio already knew the answer, but he still said, “I was chasing Spiders and pining for you.”

The taller man simply nodded. “Things have certainly changed since then. And no matter what you think of him, Killua is still a kid. He doesn’t know what he wants just yet. He’s probably more worried about what Gon will think of all this.”

Kurapika couldn’t help but bristle at the mention of the other young man. “Gon was Killua’s world for almost six years.”

“Don’t defend Killua like that.” Leorio frowned as his brow wrinkled. “It really is unhealthy to make one person your whole world. We both always knew that Killua had some really bad emotional habits. It’s part of what makes me worry about him so much . . . I mean, do you really think you two have a shot at making this work?”

Kurapika stuttered, unable to honestly look Leorio in the eye. “I’m not even sure . . .”

* * *

 

Killua could honestly say he was getting much better at reading Kurapika now. He had taken a few hours to himself, to explore the way he and the Kuruta were connected. He was overwhelmed by the wide array of emotions he’d detected: joy, shame, surprise, and a sad sense of love to name a few.

Love?

Now that was a foreign word. Killua never heard the phrase “I love you” from anyone as a child. Not even his parents. But it wasn’t like he expected to hear it. The concept was an unspoken, distant notion in his family that didn’t carry much weight. Actions were valued far more than words, which could easily be used to lie.

Alluka, Nanika, and Gon were the only ones that Killua could honestly say he was capable of loving.

But Kurapika had now earned his own separate, unidentifiable category in Killua’s life.

As soon as the blond left, Killua found himself feeling very angry and very sad all at once. He found himself missing Kurapika in a way he’d never dreamed he would. And even now, he wished there was a way to take back all the nasty things he’d said.

Killua realized all too late that Kurapika hadn’t been trying to hurt him; he was only trying to voice some very awkward, difficult things that needed to be said. In retrospect, Kurapika was far braver than Killua ever gave him credit for. Because everything the Kuruta had said, as painful as it was to hear, was true . . .

And Killua had tuned him out and used petty insults to cut him down, without even thinking about how much it would really hurt. It reminded Killua of a time he’d almost forgotten, way back when . . . when all he was trying to do was help a friend and stop them from risking their life, and that friend turned around and stomped all of his care and concern into the dirt . . .

And on a different, less life-threatening level, Killua had done the same to Kurapika.

He would give anything to reach out and apologize.

If Kurapika would even let him.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Bisky had considered involving herself in Killua's boy trouble more than once.

On the day Kurapika left, Killua had quieted down to the point that Bisky was concerned. To go from making such a fuss to dead silence, just like that? And she still couldn't decide if leaving him alone was really the best thing she could have done . . .

Before they both knew it, days had gone by and there was no word from Kurapika. Killua insisted that the blond was fine; that even though his aura felt a little distressed from the days of distance, he was still alive and well.  _"He's still keeping his distance from me. I can't say I blame him."_  Killua had sighed with a bittersweet smile.

Bisky couldn't believe they were  _that_  in tune with each other. Incomplete connections were supposed to mean death and destruction, not . . . whatever it was these boys thought they were doing.

The raw force of an incomplete connection was supposed to be powerful in terms of how many people it could kill and how many cities it could wipe out. All of the residual energy given off by the bond misfiring would take over, and only exhaustion or death could stop it. And you certainly weren't able to read your partner's feelings, thoughts, or vital signs.

This bond was something entirely different, something even Bisky hadn't been expecting. Even if it wasn't whole, it held far more potential than the bond she had originally studied.

"What is your relationship with Kurapika?" Bisky found herself asking.

Killua made a low, awkward noise in his throat before simply answering, "We're just friends, and we made a mistake. Don't worry about it."

_He loves you._

Those words were precariously balanced on the tip of Bisky's tongue. She was a breath away from just letting them fall from her lips, consequences be damned.

But she wouldn't let herself.

Killua had turned his head away, tugging on a few silver strands of hair as he asked, "What did you have to leave for, anyway?"

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Bisky merely shrugged. "Well, I didn't get much done, so I'll have to leave again. Because a certain someone couldn't handle their partner."

"Hey, he's fucking scary when he's angry . . . he just  _stares_  at you with those  _eyes_  . . ."

"This is your relationship, not mine."

"It's not a relationship-"

"Killua Zoldyck. I do not want to hear those words from you ever again. Understand?"

"I don't get what the big deal is. We aren't dating."

Killua didn't hear Bisky's retort. A familiar buzzing in his head dominated his thoughts.

Kurapika was back.

* * *

Kurapika took the days of space as an opportunity of self-reflection. And he thought about what he and Killua last said to each other nearly constantly. He would admit that most of what he said was the truth. But even still, there were things he'd said purely out of frustration. Things he would give anything to take back if he could. He should have thought more before he berated Killua in the way that he did . . .

And now here he was at Bisky's doorstep, hoping for some way to make things better again.

He was sure knocking or ringing the doorbell wasn't necessary, what with Killua being so sensitive to his presence and all. But as an act of courtesy, he'd meant to at least reach out to lightly knock. Until the door was practically thrown open.

Killua stared at Kurapika like he couldn't believe he was there. And just knowing the younger man was so close was causing Kurapika's aura to react. It was almost akin to a static shock that prickled up and down his skin.

Kurapika had taken a deep breath to start apologizing, but Killua beat him to it with a rushed, "You were right."

To put it mildly, Kurapika was bewildered, and the words on his tongue momentarily vanished. "I . . . what?"

"You were right. About the bond, about Gon, everything. I'm sorry for not listening to you in the first place. If I had listened, maybe we wouldn't have ever fought in the first place."

At some point, Kurapika's mouth fell agape. He'd blinked, tried to recollect himself, and failed. "Killua . . ."

"I don't blame you if you don't believe me." Killua admitted, and the sincerity in his eyes threw Kurapika off even further. "And I can't tell if you're still mad at me, but if you are I don't blame you."

The intensity in that blue gaze was something Kurapika had only witnessed a few times before. Granted, all those previous times they had been in bed together . . . but seeing such powerful focus in those eyes outside of sex made a blind hope swell in Kurapika's chest.

"You were right." Killua repeated. "I'm still in love with Gon. And I was afraid to admit that. Especially in front of you."

Having been blindsided a second time, Kurapika barely had a chance to stutter out, "Killua-"

"I never want to hurt you like that ever again. I-"

"Please don't think it was only you. I was at fault, too . . . I shouldn't have spoken to you out of anger like that. I was being irrational. I'm sorry . . ." Kurapika's heart was leaping around in his chest, squeezing his throat with every pulse. So many questions were running circles in his head, demanding to be answered. But in the wake of those shining blue eyes that stared at him so desperately, Kurapika couldn't think. Killua was searching the blond's gaze, silently begging him for something that even the younger male himself couldn't name . . .

Perhaps Kurapika was letting his emotions get the better of him.

He'd nearly forced himself onto Killua, and the younger man's arms immediately came up to hold him. Their physical contact was like a balm that soothed and tamed their combined auras, and before he knew it they were kissing.

As soon as their lips and tongues met, it felt too good. Kurapika instantly craved more and backed Killua into something, possibly the doorframe. But the blond didn't care what it was, so long as he could hold Killua against it and ravage his mouth. He greedily caressed the cool, pale skin beneath Killua's shirt and felt the way the younger male  _trembled_  under his touch-

Killua's hands, which had been firmly grasping Kurapika's hips, were now on his shoulders and gently holding him back.

Kurapika openly groaned in disappointment, panting harshly as he breathed, "What's wrong?"

"You said you wanted to stop doing this." Killua was also panting, but through his low, lusty tone there laid a seriousness that caught the blond's attention. "I want to listen to you from now on."

Kurapika let his head fall on Killua's collarbone as he regained his breath. He closed his eyes and fought with himself. Why did Killua have to choose now to be so . . .  _arousing_?

Rather warm hands crept up towards Kurapika's face and tenderly held him, lifting his head up just enough to make his nose brush Killua's bottom lip. Kurapika opened his eyes and studied the radiant blue ones that smiled down at him.

A thumb brushed his cheek and a content chuckle rumbled in Killua's chest. "I missed your scarlet eyes . . ."

That comment alone made it even harder for Kurapika to stay a man of his word. His fingers curled into the thin fabric of Killua's shirt and he quietly implored, "We need to get away from each other before I try to jump you again."

They both simultaneously blinked at Kurapika's Killua-esque word choice. The younger male was the first to back off and slide his hands into his pockets with a simple smile. "What you have to say is important to me. And I want to respect what you want."

Listening to the younger male's honest words was not helping Kurapika's erection at all. Knowing that this was going to be incriminating no matter how he said it, the blond relented and sheepishly admitted, "Then . . . I'll need a few minutes alone. If that's alright."

"Oh! Yeah, of course. I mean um, go for it . . . Uh, I'll just stop talking now." Killua scratched his head rather awkwardly before he headed upstairs to his room. And Kurapika took that opportunity to shut himself in the nearest bathroom.

* * *

Killua could say that there were few things in his life that really put him at ease. And being in Kurapika's good graces was now one of those things. Maybe it was also the relaxed lull that both their auras held . . .

As soon as Kurapika was discovered by Bisky, she'd sternly sat him down in the living room without paying Killua much mind.

" _I understand you were upset, but for both your sakes, you can't leave like that again. It's dangerous for you to be too far apart-"_

That was when the woman noticed Killua eavesdropping and promptly chased him away.

Killua huffed. Whatever Bisky had to say to Kurapika, she could say in front of Killua too, right? After waiting for Bisky's warning En to shrink, Killua had cloaked himself in his Zetsu and hid around the top of the stairs, just within earshot of his teacher's hushed voice.

" _Two weeks is how long you and Killua can go without being near each other. Even I will admit, that is an impressive amount of time to go without each other in a bond like yours. But I'm sure even you have noticed that things start getting out of hand after a few days."_  Killua didn't hear much of what Kurapika tried to say in response, but Bisky soon cut him off.  _"I know this will be hard on both of you. But you have to adjust. And I'll keep giving it my best shot, but at this rate . . . I doubt very much that the bond between you will ever be broken."_ Kurapika had tried speaking again, but Bisky immediately countered,  _"You can't tell Killua . . . Not until I know for sure."_

His teacher's words did not sit well with him, Killua decided. They made him feel ill and rather dizzy. Were he and Kurapika really going to be stuck like this for the rest of their lives?

And soon enough, Killua was being scrutinized by disappointed hazel eyes. How had Kurapika managed to find him so quickly? "I know you heard her. I felt your Zetsu."

Oh, right, the connection. Killua had relinquished his hiding spot by the stairs and stood. "There has to be a way, an exorcist, something-"

A powerful scorn from Kurapika promptly shut Killua up. "We have to learn to live with it, no matter what the outcome is. I suggest you start getting used to it."

Killua would have known if Kurapika was angry or upset, but he was simply stating yet another hard fact. And Killua relented by submissively slipping his hands in his pockets. "So, any other bad news?"

Kurapika did flinch slightly at that. "Well, she instructed me to tie up any loose ends I might have. So I can focus all my energy on our bond."

The younger man tried not to think too hard about the phrase "our bond" before he said, "I'm assuming that involves your job?"

"Well, yes." Kurapika sighed. "I need to tell Neon I won't be back for a while, at least until we get this straightened out."

Killua's imagination ran wild for a moment as he wondered what the end result of "straightening things out" could possibly be. Everything was uncertain now, but he couldn't help but hold a morbid curiosity towards it.

Maybe it was because he really hadn't been involved in anything too risky since he'd helped Alluka gain her freedom so long ago. Sure, there had been smaller victories and loses here and there, but there were times when the warrior within him wanted something more dangerous, as awful as that sounded. Something with higher stakes that made his pulse race with the thrill of uncertainty.

If he and Kurapika ended up being permanently connected for life . . . What could that really mean for them? For their friends?

And why was he as excited about it as he was worried?

"Oh, and you have to come with me. Biscuit's orders." Kurapika's voice broke Killua's train of thought, and he was being dragged away by the arm before he could protest.

* * *

"Just stay quiet and follow my lead." Kurapika instructed as he and Killua stood outside the wrought iron gates of Neon Nostrade's mansion.

Killua remembered hearing that Neon was a pampered, spoiled brat; but that was more than five years ago. Who knew if anything about her was different now. And he surely didn't remember the Nostrades having such an excessive number of bodyguards back then. He'd seen at least twenty of them as he and Kurapika made their way up to the front gates. And every one of them looked to be either memorizing Killua's appearance or tracking his every move.

Killua tried to shrug them off. He and Kurapika were only there because the blond needed to announce his personal leave from Neon's side. And then they could focus all of their attention on trying to fix their problem.

"I'll try to make this quick." Kurapika quietly reassured Killua before they were allowed inside. "He's with me." The Kuruta called to another group of guards who'd taken to suspiciously analyzing Killua.

They navigated a few halls and three sets of stairs before Killua asked, "What's with those guys?"

"They're understandably cautious." Kurapika explained as they walked. "A lot has happened within these walls."

All the polished, rather brightly decorated hallways were starting to look the same to Killua when they finally reached the double doors to Neon's office

Kurapika knocked on the door in what seemed like some kind of code: five times, and then three more, before waiting patiently. His professionalism was beginning to make Killua feel underdressed, even though they were both in casual clothes.

The door opened slowly, and Killua found himself staring down at Senritsu. The small woman looked rather stunned to see him as well.

"Hey." Killua said with a grin as he placed his hands in his pockets.

Senritsu glanced back and forth between the two men, sparing a particularly long look for Kurapika, before she led them inside.

A young woman with short cerulean hair and blue eyes, wearing a modest black dress, simple heels, and dark make-up, had been sitting in a chair behind a desk until she saw Kurapika. She shot up from her seat and stared at him in worry. "How's your arm?"

Kurapika smiled warmly and gave a simple gesture with the arm in question. "Everything is fine, Neon. I had it taken care of a while ago."

Neon heaved a sigh as she sat back down. "That's good to hear. I wish you wouldn't have ran off after that man left. I was worried."

" _What is she talking about?"_  Killua asked Kurapika with his eyes.

Kurapika must have felt his question, because he eventually glanced back with a look that said,  _"I'll tell you later."_  Turning back to his young boss, Kurapika said, "Neon, I'd like you to meet Killua. He's a close friend."

"Any friend of Kurapika's is a friend of mine." Neon said simply as she looked Killua over only once with slight disinterest.

The two men sat in the velour chairs before Neon's desk as she and Kurapika began to talk some sort of business. Killua promptly tuned it out and stared out the nearest window with a fist tucked under his chin. Every once in a while, he would glance at either Neon or Kurapika as they talked.

They were going over some kind of paperwork together. And Killua had to admit, the way Neon doted on the Kuruta was overwhelmingly obvious. It was almost as if Killua wasn't even in the room to begin with. While Kurapika was pointing at something and explaining it, Neon was completely engrossed in his every word and nodding vigorously in agreement. Killua noticed her eyes would glitter in a certain way every time she looked at Kurapika. She would smile dazzlingly and move just a bit closer to him whenever he'd-

Killua's eyes shot wide open when he realized what he was witnessing.

And it was so hard to hold in his laughter. He held a fist to his mouth, but a wide smirk still escaped him.

The digital ring of the phone on Neon's desk startled her, and with a huff she answered it. "I thought I told you not to call unless it was an emergency." A rather panicked voice replied in a rush, and Neon blew a few strands of hair off her cheek. "What do you mean it's the wrong delivery? . . . Ok, I'll be down in a second."

Neon hung up and tucked her hair behind an ear as she glanced apologetically at Kurapika. "I'm so sorry about this. I'll be right back."

"We'll be waiting." Kurapika assured her before she hurried out of the office with Senritsu at her side.

As soon as both women were gone, Killua allowed himself the smallest chuckle that quickly turned into something he couldn't control. It unfurled into full-blown laughter that had him clutching his sides and struggling to breathe.

Once Killua's laughter had calmed somewhat, his watering blue eyes met rather annoyed hazel. The younger man bit his lip and fought another wave of laughter that rolled through him. "You gotta tell her."

Kurapika primly crossed his arms. "Tell her what exactly?"

Killua chuckled again. "She wants you, and you're too busy liking dick to notice."

Kurapika looked taken aback as he argued, "I've  _noticed_. I've just never given those feelings of hers any attention-"

"Trust me, every time you look at her, you're giving 'those feelings' attention." Killua admitted, his voice taking on a less teasing and more serious tone. "You have to tell her you're not interested. It might also help if she knows you're gay."

"My sexuality isn't everyone's business."

"Fine. Just tell her you're not interested."

"So, you expect me to say "I'm sorry Neon, but I have to take personal leave from your side, I can't tell you why, I don't know how long I'll be gone, and also I was never romantically interested in you"?"

"Bingo." Killua affirmed. "Just use less words and you should be fine."

Kurapika sighed heavily, looking down at the blue carpet that covered the office floor, before saying, "You're right. I should say something, but I'll tell her when I return to work."

"If you say so." Killua couldn't help but grin at the blond's flustered expression. "So, what was she saying about your arm?"

"That was Hisoka's doing."

Kurapika's answer was honestly one that Killua didn't expect. "What's he up to now?"

"He was targeting Neon for a while. She was seen with Kuroro's Skill Hunter, and Hisoka wanted to see it for himself. So, needless to say he got what he wanted."

Killua's jaw clicked shut after dropping. "No fucking way."

"Apparently, Kuroro used some kind of connection similar to ours to give his ability to Neon after he died."

Killua's nose wrinkled at that thought, "He wasn't in love with her or anything, was he?"

"Hisoka said Kuroro had always wanted a daughter. He never had children, so I suppose Neon was the closest thing at the time."

"Ah. She doesn't seem at all like what I thought she'd be."

"Losing family can really change a person."

That was when Neon returned with Senritsu. It didn't take too much longer before Kurapika discussed the terms of his personal leave with the young mafia boss. Neon did seem visibly upset at first, but she quickly swallowed it and offered the Kuruta a smile.

"Take as much time as you need. I'm sure that it's important business, knowing you." Neon said amenably. "We'll be waiting for you here."

"Thank you, Neon." Killua nearly slapped a palm to his forehead when he saw Neon's blush. Kurapika should have shook her off a long time ago . . .

As the two men turned to leave, Neon called after them, "Oh! It was good meeting you, Killua!"

"You too." Killua threw idly over his shoulder.

Kurapika elbowed his arm as soon as they were out in the hallway. "You could have at least used her name."

"Nah." The younger man dismissed with a hand. "We both know that the only person she cared about seeing today was you. And that's not going to change until you tell her the truth."

"Didn't I say I would tell her when I came back to work?"

"So she can spend all that time missing you and wanting you back while you're gone? Sounds like a plan."

"It's just not a good time, Killua-"

"There's never a good time to break someone's heart."

Kurapika's uncertainty and confusion hovered densely around them both the entire way back to the front gates. They sat on a stone bench perched alongside a manicured lawn and waited for a car that was instructed to take them back to Bisky's.

After a while, Killua decided to take a chance, and lay his hand over the blond's.

Kurapika jumped and immediately gave Killua a sideways glance, but he didn't move his hand away, "What exactly are you playing at?" he questioned softly.

"Just relax." Killua smiled and linked their fingers together before taking his time to peck the older male on the cheek.

Seeing Kurapika blush and pull his hand away was both adorable and a bit disappointing. Killua could still feel the warmth of the blond's skin on his palm. One cautious blue eye looked back at one of the huge windows to Neon's office, only to find that the curtains had just been pulled shut.

* * *

Thank you everyone! I'll never stop saying how much I appreciate your enthusiasm and support. But I will admit I have some bad news. My fuzzy little girl is in need of vet care and preventative medicines, among other things that are quickly adding up. Also, the move I had mentioned earlier has been delayed, also adding onto my expenses. It is because of this that I have no choice but to put this story on hold once more. At this point I don't know when I'll be able to start writing again. But I hope this chapter helps make up for my absence.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been gone for a long while, I will admit. The current complications in my life haven't quite passed yet. And to add to that, this story is honestly one of the most difficult pieces of writing I've ever created, haha. It's a monster that pretty much owns me.
> 
> I would like to apologize for seeming like I have abandoned my work. I couldn't do that, to it or any of you wonderful people. I toss ideas around in my head and think of all of you far too much to just walk away now. I finished this chapter about an hour ago. I hope it's not too rough around the edges. Thank you for all your patience and understanding.

Killua was grateful he’d gotten away with that one little kiss. Or at least, he felt like he did. Kurapika hadn’t said a word about it since they left the Nostrade Estate.

And he figured it was a mutual understanding between them both: Neon had to find out sometime.

Killua stopped walking, barely restraining himself from shaking his head in disbelief at that thought. What was he implying? That Neon would never be able to date her very gay advisor . . . or that on top of that, he was already . . . dating Killua?

The younger man simultaneously choked on his own spit and tripped up the steps at such a startling train of thought. That couldn’t happen. _Ever_. Why was he even allowing himself to think that way? And why was the prospect of dating Kurapika suddenly sounding so-

 _What’s wrong?_ Hazel eyes were on him, and Killua looked away rather awkwardly.

He’d nearly forgotten that Kurapika could basically read his mind.

“Nothing.”

Kurapika seemed to shrug the answer off as he continued towards the front door. He’d reached for the handle, only to go still for a moment. “I should tell you . . .” he began softly. “My Nen master is here. I told him that we need his help.”

Killua couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. “You did what?”

“Biscuit had to leave again, and it’s clear that we can’t be trusted alone. I offered my Nen master as her temporary replacement.” When Killua projected all his distaste toward this, Kurapika gave a withering backward glance. “Any better ideas?”

The younger male didn’t want to press the issue, no matter how much he didn’t want to see Mizuken again. He just folded his hands behind his head, and looked to an already dim sky that begun to color with the promise of a golden sunset . . . Where had the day gone?

As soon as Killua had gotten distracted by the time, a strangely intimate feeling from Kurapika pulled him out of it. And sharp blue eyes caught hazel ones scanning up and down his body before they darted away.

As sudden and odd as the whole situation was, Killua shamelessly cracked a grin. “You were checking me out.”

“Assume that again and we’ll see what happens.” Came a perfectly harmless bluff as Kurapika finally let himself in the front door. Killua grinned wider at how red the blond’s ears were.

And it was then that Killua clearly saw sharp streaks of arousal that cut through Kurapika’s embarrassment. Knowing someone’s true feelings at any given time occasionally had its perks.

Killua unconsciously licked his lips at the thought of shoving Kurapika against the very wall he walked past, and satisfying his every need. All while those half-lidded, sparkling red eyes watched him . . . Killua released the breath he’d been holding in a sigh of longing.

_Get a hold of yourself._

Didn’t he promise Kurapika that they wouldn’t do this anymore? Although he hadn’t considered just how hard it would be to actually quit . . . but they had to. They had no choice. Gon couldn’t know, no one could know. It was bad enough that Bisky and Mizuken knew.

But what was this terrible feeling of falling? Of plunging so deeply into something that was out of his control . . . Did he really want to separate from Kurapika for good? . . . And what would happen to their friendship after all this?

The tip of his tongue burned with the need to speak. To voice countless concerns . . . About what, exactly? Killua still wasn’t sure . . .

“You’ve felt strange ever since we returned. Is there anything you want to talk about?” Killua felt observant hazel eyes studying him carefully once more.

“I . . .” Killua had vocally jumped at the chance to say something, but his brain hadn’t caught up just yet. And even though he stuttered and stalled, the blond only looked up at him with gentle patience. The focused gaze alone made Killua look away and place his hands in his pockets. “I’m just not sure . . . about anything anymore.”

“You’re not alone.” Was Kurapika’s immediate response. He’d reached for Killua’s arm, gingerly laying a hand on it as a means of reassurance. But all it did was cause Killua’s aura to resonate in a strange purr. “I don’t know how to feel about this, either.”

Killua couldn’t decide whether those words were meant to be a good or bad thing. But regardless, his heart leapt around in his chest, battering his rib cage. Their eyes met, and sense of permanence enveloped them both. Maybe, if Killua was willing to find the right words, he could describe the sensation . . . but he was too lost in those eyes that pleaded and begged every time they looked at him. What they begged him for, Killua couldn’t answer. At least, not with words.

But his body did answer: his skin, lungs, and heart were alight with something . . . something that even radiated from Kurapika himself. Sure, they had made some mistakes and gotten themselves into a messy situation . . . But all this time, Kurapika had done his best to remain calm and think logically. Especially when Killua failed to do so.

All Killua saw when he looked at the blond was someone who would unconditionally care for him, accept him, and be there for him. That was all Kurapika had ever tried to do, since the very beginning . . . How could Killua have overlooked such a magnificent human being all this time?

The younger male leaned into the feeling of open lips pressed against his own. He moaned into Kurapika’s mouth, drowning in physical and spiritual sensations. But a voice screamed in the very corners of Killua’s mind, issuing a warning all too late.

Killua separated their lips with a tantalizingly wet sound. And the first thing he gasped out was, “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. I kissed you.” Kurapika softly countered as he leaned in once more, his eyes still closed. They’d surely keep going if one of them didn’t have enough sense to back off . . .

“Wait.” Killua held Kurapika back with a hand in the middle of the blond’s chest. He couldn’t help but feel the frantic beat of his heart, under his hand and in their auras. And then came the fact that Kurapika had a very nice chest, and Killua wanted to keep touching it . . . “We really can’t be left alone for too long.” The breathy admission came out only half-jokingly as he took a step back. “You know I want to keep my promise to you. I want you to be able to trust me-”

“Stop talking like that. You’re only making me harder.” Kurapika nearly whined as he too gathered enough sense to back away. Satisfaction curled contently in Killua’s chest as he saw shining crimson eyes flutter open. Kurapika shied away from Killua’s smug grin and looked to the floor. “I need a moment to . . . calm down.”

Killua gave a wry chuckle and raked a hand through his hair. They both took a moment to stand in the secluded doorway and regain their composure.

Out of the corner of his eye, the younger male caught Kurapika shaking his head and giggling to himself. “We didn’t even shut the door.”

Killua blushed slightly at that. They could have been seen by anyone who happened to walk by . . . but for some reason, it didn’t bother him as much as it should have.

After successfully remembering to close the door behind them, both young men continued toward the living room. Or one of them did, while the other saw who was sitting on the sofa and froze. Killua had almost forgotten what Kurapika said not even five minutes ago . . .

The younger male was seconds away from retreating back to the doorway. Where he would go after that, he was unsure. All he knew was that he needed to get away.

But unfortunately, a thin yet firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

 _Please. At least try_. Those warm, hazel-gray eyes were looking back and pleading with him . . .

And Killua unfortunately found himself giving in.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Master.” Kurapika focused his attention solely on his teacher as he took a seat next to him. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you taking the time to be here.”

Mizuken seemed to avoid looking at Killua as he answered, “You don’t have to thank me. I’d be here regardless.”

Kurapika then excused himself, saying something about retrieveing some paperwork out of Bisky’s room for his teacher to analyze. Which left Killua completely and utterly alone with Mizuken.

Mizuken glanced rather purposefully over at Killua, and the younger male swallowed on impulse. No matter how scruffy and unkempt the man appeared, that sharp look in his intelligent eyes could silence a room. The Nen master lifted his chin ever so slightly, and the atmosphere around them left Killua feeling a bit vulnerable.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever properly introduced ourselves. I’m Mizuken.” The man offered a hand for Killua, but all the younger male did was blink at it until it fell back to Mizuken’s side.

“I’m Killua.” Came a simple, blunt answer as blue eyes glanced away.

“So _now_ you’ll tell me your name.” Mizuken chuckled, but something about it made Killua bristle.

 “I was worried about him, back then. I didn’t want him to be hurt.” Killua explained under his breath.

Now both men were looking away from each other, neither one saying a word until Killua heard Mizuken lean back in his seat. “Your fighting style is rather unique. I’d almost pegged you as an assassin . . . but your technique isn’t quite up to standard.”

“I was in the trade a while back. Didn’t like it, so I quit. I’ve been clean for five years.” Killua tried not to sound ruffled. Or offended. But the words weren’t coming out the way he wanted.

“Quit, huh? Assassins are more often than not born into their trade. So I’m assuming that you no longer associate with your family.”

“Why’s that your business?”

Mizuken didn’t bother with an answer: only another question. “Does Kurapika know?”

The younger man flinched at the mention of the blond, not appreciating where Mizuken was suddenly steering the conversation. “Of course. We knew each other even before I quit.”

“So you were friends before this?”

“We still are.”

Killua was about to ask why Mizuken was firing so many questions at him, until he sensed a sudden underlying hostility. It was so subtle that it could easily be missed if you weren’t looking for it. Mizuken had been staring at Killua, almost unblinkingly, the entire time they spoke. Killua was never religious, but at this moment he was praying to whoever might hear him that Mizuken would just leave the topic alone. But that was highly unlikely, now that Mizuken had Killua right where he wanted him.

“I see the way he looks at you.”

The impending tension between them showed no mercy, creeping up Killua’s spine and lingering heavily in his throat. He wasn’t sure what else to do besides keep his focus on a very interesting speck of dust on the floor. Mizuken was still blatantly staring at him. Studying him. Trying to figure him out. Being the sole object of such a questioning, demanding gaze was suffocating . . . Killua hid his hands in his pockets to quell a slight quiver that worked its way through him.

Killua tried to answer, but his voice was stuck, unable to get past his mouth. He looked up at Mizuken, questioning and apprehensive.

“You heard me.” Mizuken laced his fingers together, everything about him still lax and complacent. He looked in the direction of the stairs that Kurapika had climbed, and then pointedly back at Killua. “He’s like a son to me, you know.”

Killua tried to make use of his suddenly stiff jaw, “I . . .”

“He tells me you two aren’t dating. Are you?” And there was that look again, like Mizuken was trying to uncover all of Killua’s darkest secrets.

His nerves continued to rise, and in that same moment he felt Kurapika become concerned. Killua tried to send back a soothing _everything’s fine_ , but even he was having a hard time believing himself. “N-no. But we-”

“He also told me that you’re trying to find a way to dissolve your connection. It’s for the best . . . if you’re going to continue making him wear dresses for you, and you won’t even date him.”

 _“How does he know about that?!”_ was the first shocked thought to grace Killua’s mind. But what ultimately left his mouth was a timid, “That wasn’t my fault . . .”

“I suppose it’s one thing if you make him happy. But he doesn’t need any more-”

“Is everything alright?” Kurapika had called from upstairs, and Killua was instantly grateful for the distraction he provided.

Mizuken leaned back in his seat, still eyeing Killua as he answered, “Everything’s just fine.”

Much to Killua’s relief, Kurapika had quickly returned with some choice files for his Nen master to read. The man scanned every page with dark, thoughtful eyes, and then muttered to himself, “I have to ask . . . what did the Association end up doing with their research subjects, after this project . . . Where are they now?”

“My Nen master said she couldn’t tell us anything.” Killua spoke up, and the other two men looked over at him. “But why does it matter if we know or not?”

“The fact that the Association has taken such great lengths to hide this from everyone is dangerous.” Mizuken continued to thumb through the documents with a heavy sigh. “And the fact that I don’t see any mention of exactly who their subjects were and what became of them after the project . . . She’s keeping you hidden from them for a reason. If the Zodiacs found out about you, it could mean trouble.”

* * *

 

Normally, early mornings at the Hunter’s Association Headquarters were calm and tranquil. Cheadle nearly had an hour of silence some days, before the real pressures of her job as a leader kicked in. But nowadays, her almost-hour of peace was being stolen from her. Defiled by a man she never thought she’d see again.

“What do you want?”

It was such an asinine question. Cheadle wondered why she’d even bothered to ask in the first place. The answer was always the same.

And before Ging Freecss could turn to look at her, Cheadle found herself supplying a brisk, “I will not use Association funding to back your stupid, selfish endeavors.”

Because of course, Ging was the kind of man who only showed himself when he wanted something.

The 14th Chairman was not at all amused by this daily routine. Every morning, Ging would wait for her outside her office. And Cheadle would promptly (try to) ignore his presence and slam the door behind her, in that order.

After following through with her new morning routine, Cheadle sat at her desk with a huff. She could sense Ging still leaning on the wall outside her door.

“Can’t you go beg someone else for money? Just because your deal with the Kakin princes fell through doesn’t mean I’ll feel sorry for you.” she announced rather loudly at the wall, knowing Ging was still listening to her. But he didn’t budge.

Cheadle groaned. She didn’t have time for this. There were much bigger things happening in the world around them, and all Ging could think about was himself. Typical, she’d thought on more than one occasion.

She rubbed her temples as her green canine ears fell flat against her head. She could almost feel the migraine that threatened to impede the day’s work; let alone face the grim fact that the past had come back to haunt her.

She stared down at the open letter in front of her, its well-worn creases causing the handwritten words to smear slightly. Well, it wasn’t so much of a letter as it was a simple note. Cheadle had folded and unfolded it so many times, trying to make sense of it.

_M,_

_I would like to exchange letters again. I hope you understand._

_B. Krueger_

Cheadle even had it tested for anything suspicious. No invisible ink, no specific chemicals, not even any detectible written code. It was just plain, ordinary pen and paper. And it made Cheadle fear the worst.

Subject M was the epicenter of the aptly-named Project M5, and Biscuit was one the Hunters most heavily involved in that study . . .

A red flag had been raised since the interception of that letter, and Cheadle was the first to panic. Did this letter mean what she thought it meant? She hoped not. She hoped and prayed to whatever forces were out there that they would not have another Project on their hands.

The Zodiacs were _still_ cleaning up the mess that had been that project. There were still uninhabitable cities, forests turned to unforgiving wastelands, lakes of poisoned water. The leaders of the rest of the world were thrown into an uproar back then, threatening to declare war on the Hunter community if anything like this ever happened again. Cheadle had been the figurehead, the one blamed for the entire calamity. She was stuck in an impossible place, and had to make a quick decision. And for the first time, the Zodiacs were personally given the order to hunt down these Nen-users and kill them. It had been a success, save for one survivor who had been spared in exchange for valuable information.

It was Cheadle’s first major decision as Chairman. She hadn’t even been in office for more than a year then. She still remembered the way her hands shook as the fate of the Hunter community rested firmly on her small shoulders. And ever since those days, she’d been noticing more silver streaks about her mint green hair . . .

The damage caused by the rogue Nen-users was written off as “natural disasters” and never given any more attention afterward. The whole ordeal had never left the government level. Even the Hunters who studied Project M5 were specifically advised to never speak of what they studied, or they would forfeit their alliance to the Hunters Association- and their lives.

. . . But having to go through all of that _again_?

Cheadle was sure she wouldn’t be able to handle it a second time. It would drive her mad.

* * *

 

Bisky wrapped a pink, polka-dotted shawl tighter around her shoulders. How long had it been since she’d last been in the mountains? She’d forgotten just how cold and windy it could get, despite all the clear skies and sunshine.

How deceptive.

She was standing atop a thick, metal watchtower that looked down into an otherwise peaceful mountain valley. The prison grounds weren’t more than an acre, that much was Bisky was sure of. Still, the expanse of the entire valley seemed like such extravagant accommodations for only one prisoner. Then again, she’d never factored in the radiation that needed to be contained . . .

The Nen-using soldiers there had already greeted her by way of scanning her for contraband or weapons. She couldn’t blame them for wanting to be cautious, even if she personally felt they were being a little rough.

Most of the older guards knew and recognized her for the work she did a few years back. They kept conversation short and professional, but Bisky could feel them questioning her presence with their eyes: why was she here, indeed?

She’d leave it up to them to wonder. It would be unfortunate if Cheadle caught wind of any more evidence than she already had.

“Ms. Krueger, the warden will see you now.” The guards had promptly and stiffly led Bisky down into the depths of the prison, through a kind of trap door with a worn set of metal stairs underneath.

Being inside these dreary walls again was dredging up memories. Although four years ago, she wouldn’t have been escorted by half a dozen armed soldiers. She had been practically living amongst them.

She surprised herself by remembering where the main office was located. If the guards weren’t so insistent on cautiously treating her like an outsider, she could have gotten there herself. But then again, when was the last time this place had any visitors?

Bisky had been led inside the absurdly large, bare main office. The blinds were hardly open, shrouding the room in sharp streaks of light and darkness. A mostly shadowed figure, sitting in a chair behind a desk, leaned forward to speak. But Bisky cut him off.

“You could have at least come to see me yourself, you know. Instead of getting your men all worked up for nothing.”

“You know this isn’t for their ears. They don’t need to worry any more than they already do.” Came the deep, growling voice of the Dragon of the Zodiacs.

Bisky primly sat in a folding chair that was just as gray as the rest of the room. Ignoring the lack of padding in the rather frail furniture, she chose to remain stoically silent.

She never imagined she’d be facing Botobai like this. The man had been a close colleague at one point in their lives. They had taken an oath at the beginning of the Project with all the other members: that they would set aside their differences and protect each other. But now . . . they were on opposing sides, regardless of how much Bisky wanted to trust him.

Now, she had her students to protect.

And sure enough, the older Zodiac took Bisky’s silence as an opening to speak again. “I was wondering when I would hear from you. After all, you don’t pull stupid stunts for just any reason.”

Bisky resisted the urge to bite her lip before steeling herself. “I thought I would have the clearance to do that. After all, I was the one who was able to get closer to M than anyone else on the team. I remember even you were jealous, Botobai.”

“But why send a letter to a highly dangerous prisoner you haven’t seen in four years, simply asking if they’d care to exchange letters with you again?” Hints of a snarl lied beneath Botobai’s tone. “There are many possibilities, but only one stood out in my mind . . . Could it be that you need help? . . . Could it be that another abomination has surfaced on our world and you are seeking guidance to control it?”

Bisky officially stuck her nose up at Botobai, completing the action with tightly crossed arms. “Even if there was, why would I tell the Dog’s dog? I’d like to think that M and I were friends. So I can’t make any kind of contact with a friend?”

“Friends with a criminal. Biscuit, you’re hilarious.” Botobai only laughed, the sound deep and graveled. “You’re here for a reason. For the same reason you sent that letter. Who are you trying to protect and why?”

Bisky remained firm, carefully choosing her words before asking, “Is Cheadle really looking for another bond?”

That was when Botobai seemed to lower his defenses. To look Bisky in the eye and speak with her more honestly. Bisky was seeing hints of her old colleague again as Botobai admitted, “She may as well have her finger on the trigger. She’s been an order away from having her best hired hands apprehend you and take you in for questioning.”

That much Bisky had expected. She knew first-hand that Cheadle tended to overreact, and quite frankly it drove everyone around the 14th Chairman insane. Even still, the obvious threat from the Association made Bisky grit her teeth. “She can go ahead and try me. But if she lays a hand on-” she stopped herself all too late.

This new information made Botobai quirk a gray brow. “Oh? So you’re even closer to these ones. How many are there this time?”

Bisky was quickly losing her patience. She already said far too much and more or less damned the very ones she was trying to shield from harm. She clenched her fists in her pink and white dress and declared. “I won’t tell you anything else unless I know you’re on my side.”

Massive hands were folded beneath a chin as Botobai reasoned, “I was on your side during the Project. Why wouldn’t I be now?”

Bisky just raised a brow at the Zodiac’s more than flawed logic. “I’ll need to see a little more proof first. And if a word of my visit gets to Cheadle . . . I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me telling her _your_ little secret, as well.”

Botobai simply deadpanned before remarking, “Even I would have assumed you’d have more class than this.”

At that moment Bisky saw a flicker of weakness skip its way through Botobai’s aura, leaving the barest glimpse of what looked like patches of charred skin, across his face and arms. But as soon as it came, it was gone and Botobai looked normal once more. His glamour wasn’t hiding his shame very well today. “You barely escaped with your life the day M broke out of here. And the curse of that broken, mismatched aura is still imprinted on you, slowly destroying you more every day. And if Cheadle found out you’ve been lying to her about your condition, hiding under that glamour you created, for _all these years_ -”

“Alright, alright.” Botobai interrupted loudly, showing his palms in surrender. “I just hope this is worth all the heartache you’re putting yourself through. It will only get more dangerous from here on out.”

The small woman only cocked her head, her long curled ponytail swaying around one shoulder. “I’m well aware.”


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

It had been nearly four days since Biscuit left. And in her absence, she instructed Mizuken to watch over their students “like a hawk”, as their unstable connection could misfire at any time. According to her, even something as simple as a verbal disagreement could become a trigger.

In the beginning, Mizuken took those words to heart and almost never let the two young men go unsupervised. But by the end of the third day, he was perplexed. Nothing had happened, and there didn’t seem to be any ill effects from the bond whatsoever. Maybe they only took effect during separation? Or perhaps Biscuit just didn’t want to take any chances? Either way, it left Mizuken undoubtedly confused. He was expecting more of a challenge from all this.

Of course, no matter how he personally felt, Mizuken still enforced the regimen Biscuit left with him.

Killua and Kurapika would start each morning synchronizing with each other, by way of meditation. They meditated side by side at least twice a day, sometimes more depending on how their bond was feeling. Afterward, they would demonstrate their powers on outdoor targets, simply to be sure that their individual abilities were still strong. And it went without saying that Biscuit required them to stay together as often as possible. Despite this, they would make a point of keeping a physical and emotional distance from each other. But it was the times they would forget that distance that really got Mizuken’s attention.

He could generally feel it in the air, whether the two of them were getting along or not. Biscuit had been right in saying that their power was very dominating. And it really was knowing what to search their auras for that made all the difference. When their guards were lowered, their Nen immediately took advantage of it. That was when the pattern it created was the most beautiful to look at: when there was a harmonious vulnerability between the two that allowed the bond to function normally. But eventually one of them would say or do something, or even look at the other wrong, and the harmony was broken. The pattern scrambled and clashed with itself, the chaos more often than not causing both young men to cover their ears and curse. But nothing more than that.

The whole experience was more or less like baby-sitting. And Mizuken felt like a parent surveying their children as they concentrated on their studies. Or something comparable.

Currently, Kurapika and Killua were positively engrossed in reviewing and discussing the research materials in front of them, while Mizuken continued to watch them from another room. At what he believed was a safe distance.

“Why did Cheadle give it such a weird name?”

“Well, it says here that the original bond appeared as a long red string. And from first-hand accounts, whenever the participants of the bond were together, the strings became linked.”

“Oh! Like the legend of the red string of fate. That makes a lot more sense.”

Mizuken honestly didn’t understand either of them: what was the real reason they wanted to rid themselves of their bond? It’s couldn’t possibly be their compatability. They were glowing in contentment, sitting far too close, and practically _holding hands_ , for heaven’s sake. Their auras were humming along as well, swirling around them rather happily and creating a breathtaking display only few would ever witness.

There was no doubt in Mizuken’s mind that those two were in way over their heads. That they didn’t understand the forces they were playing with. And Mizuken himself still didn’t have the clearest idea, but it felt far bigger than he could have ever imagined.

The two young men had been silently reading until Killua spoke again. He gestured to the page he was on and said, “Wow. I guess the first bond was really powerful. I mean, I almost couldn’t imagine being that strong . . .”

Kurapika gave the table a pensive look. “It would be a great deal of responsibility . . . but I would shoulder it with you. If we had to, of course.”

And silence fell hard for a few deafening seconds. Mizuken fought the urge to look over at them again. When he finally spared a covert glance . . . Killua had obviously retracted and lowered his head.

“We’ll never get to that point. So don’t worry about it.” The younger male had dismissed in a strangely hollow tone.

And after they both endured what looked like rather painful backlash from their auras, they returned to studying. In complete quiet, while actively leaning away from one another.

* * *

 

The next morning, Mizuken had been jarred awake far too early by yet another rainstorm. The climate they were in must have been coming into some sort of rainy season. He wondered when it might let up as he left the guest bedroom, to check on Kurapika and then Killua.

He found himself doing so quite often. Just to make sure everything was ok.

The two of them had worked out an agreement that they would take turns sharing Killua’s bedroom. One night, Kurapika would take the room and Killua would sleep on the sofa, and vice versa the next night. But this morning, no one was in the neatly-made bed.

Instead, Mizuken saw Kurapika sitting rather stiffly on the sofa in the living room, with a fist propped under his chin as he stared at the rain outside. And Killua was curled up under a blanket, sleeping rather soundly with his silver-spiked head on the older male’s lap.

Mizuken would hold his comment on how natural it looked. How the two of them just _fit_ together like nothing else he’d ever seen. Even the unconscious lull of Killua’s aura and the contemplative hum of Kurapika’s seemed to complement each other. The translucent patterns circled them lazily, completely idle yet imposing in all their dormant power.

Mizuken couldn’t help but let his mind wander: what could possibly be the result of a complete merger, if they were already so incredibly strong as they were now?

Eventually, tired hazel eyes glanced over at Mizuken before they went back to the rain. “Killua has nights when he doesn’t need sleep. I’m still not used to it.”

The Nen master only nodded in understanding. Assassins were known for occasionally going a night or two without rest. And now Kurapika was inheriting that habit of his. In turn, Killua must be sleeping more as another result. Very interesting side effects . . .

“Did you go the whole night without sleep?” Mizuken couldn’t help but ask as he noticed dark lines beneath his student’s eyes.

“I may as well have. I got two hours in at best.” Kurapika laid a hand on Killua’s head, absent-mindedly combing through silver hair with his fingers. “But . . . staying near him helps.”

Ah. Of course close physical proximity would be a positive influence. Mizuken remembered Biscuit briefly mentioning its importance before she left. “You may want to consider sharing a room-” Mizuken stopped when he saw a warning look on his student’s exhausted features.

“We can’t do that.” No matter how tired he must have been, Kurapika still managed to look threatening. Although, Mizuken had dealt with that look before. It was nothing new to him.

“You have to keep your strength up.” The Nen master insisted.

Kurapika nearly looked like an irritated cat as he hunched his shoulders and he averted his eyes. The motion was Killua-like in nature, and the older male blinked at it in silence. “Our friendship is already in pieces. I won’t risk any more damage to us.”

Mizuken folded his hands in front of his mouth before pointing out, “I hope you realize that by forcing this distance you are still evoking damage.”

After a few more moments of staring at the carpet and trying to find a retort, Kurapika frowned. “It’s only a physical disadvantage . . .”

“In your case, a “physical disadvantage” could result in your death-”

“Don’t tell me how to handle this.” The blond finally snapped, although he kept his voice down for Killua’s sake. “I’m trying. I really am doing the best I can. We have to stay away from each other, and that’s that. At least until Biscuit returns.”

 “What if she comes back empty-handed?” They both knew who was right here. Mizuken knew Kurapika wasn’t that dense.

 “I’m attempting to be optimistic.” The blond had looked down at Killua, almost forlornly.

“There is a possibility you won’t have any options, Kurapika. Remember that.”

Kurapika continued to look away, and Mizuken took that as the end of their conversation. It was still very early in the morning; perhaps the Nen master could convince Kurapika to try sleeping again. But just as he was about to speak, a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, and soon after a low growl of thunder rumbled through the earth. Mizuken had looked up to see Kurapika peering at him in slight reluctance.

“If all else fails, we’re going to have to complete the bond and tell our closest friends what happened.” The younger of the two admitted as he continued to run a hand through the sliver head in his lap. The motion seemed to be more comforting for Kurapika than anything else.

“Which is what you’re trying to prevent, yes?”

“Essentially.” Came an uncomfortable answer. “Killua doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“Do you feel the same way?”

“I did. At least, at first. But now . . . I’d do anything to keep him safe. Even if it’s something I don’t necessarily agree with.” Another strike of lightening lit up the window, as silent as it was blinding. The rain had almost responded to its signal, pelting the glass harder than before. “Yes, I do think the bond is dangerous . . . but I have this terrible feeling that at the end of all this, without it . . . we’ll lose each other.”

“That is highly possible.” Mizuken could only agree with his student’s realization. “I won’t pretend to know exactly what’s going on between you two, and I’m only looking out for your happiness. But I don’t quite understand how happy he makes you when all I’ve seen him do is push you away.”

The hand that had been petting Killua was now holding his shoulder, as if trying to shield him from some unknown danger. “H-he just needs time-”

“Which is something neither of you have. For the past four days, I’ve watched that bond of yours grow and change. Every day that passes brings you both closer to something I’m not sure you’re even ready for-”

“I won’t have you lecture me on something we both know so little about.” Mizuken knew his student well enough to know he would have jumped out of his seat, if he hadn’t been supporting Killua. “And so help me, if you don’t leave Killua be . . . I tried to keep quiet, but I knew what you were doing to him. I regretted ever leaving the room that day. You have no right to blame him for what’s happening to us. I am just as much an active participant. I share just as much blame.”

Mizuken had been expecting Kurapika to approach him about that sooner or later. So he simply responded, “I only wanted to inform him that there was someone looking out for you. Because you have a lovely little habit of not doing that for yourself.”

The storm outside took over the silence. Kurapika leaned forward over Killua’s form, in an unmistakably protective fashion. His light hazel gaze pierced Mizuken as he said, “If you really must know . . . everything I’ve ever physically done with Killua has been consensual. He hasn’t forced himself on me, nor I him. There is no need for you to worry in that respect.”

This news was relieving on a certain level. But Killua hadn’t spoken about what happened at all. Mizuken was certain his pride got the best of him in that aspect. And the Nen master couldn’t hide his shock at the frightening amount of accuracy Kurapika had displayed.

The blond wore a hint of a sly grin as he admitted, “It wasn’t hard to pick out what you were falsely accusing him of. He never forced me to wear that dress.”

Their bond was certainly growing with every passing day.

* * *

 

_“I speak as your friend and colleague . . . Don’t be surprised if she sends someone after you.”_

Bisky had gotten almost more than she needed by paying the prison a visit. She had spoken not only to Botobai, but M as well. And M had indeed given her solution; a way to erase Killua and Kurapika’s bond.

Truth be told, it was a simple enough idea.

But carrying it out would be a whole different ordeal all together.

Bisky had spent nearly her entire trip back thinking. Combing through every corner of her mind . . . M had given her such a simple solution; one that made Bisky disappointed in herself . . . how could she have not thought about it sooner? Fundamentally, it made all the sense in the world.

But the problem now was finding a Nen-user with the specific talent they needed. Unfortunately, a Nen exorcist wouldn’t do . . . There was also the matter of what that Nen-user was allowed to know about their situation. That person could easily become a liability if things went wrong . . .

And to add to their problems, Cheadle might send her own men after them. Moving to another location was starting to become unavoidable at this point.

_One thing at a time, Bisky._

For now, she had to tell Killua and Kurapika what she knew. They had an answer now; the way out that Killua had been so desperate for. She’d taken out her cell phone, to let Mizuken know she was on her way. And to let him break the initial news. She would be along with the details soon enough.

* * *

 

Killua’s heart was pounding, not just against his ribcage but throughout his being, extending out into his aura. There was a distinct, numbing ringing in his ears. His hands were slicked with sweat as they clung together. His eyes looked right through the table they blankly stared down at.

He almost couldn’t believe what he just heard.

_“I told you we would fix it! Everything’ll go back to the way it was before, you’ll see!”_

Was what he always thought he’d say . . . But now, all he could meet this news with was silence.

He’d woke that morning to hear that Bisky was returning . . . with an answer. With a way out of the bond he and Kurapika had fallen into.

That meant no more painful head-static. No more baby-sitting. No more sneaking around and keeping secrets. No more worrying about the future. No more complications. And yet, Killua couldn’t understand why he wasn’t happier about this news.

Truth be told, he didn’t know how he should feel. Time had stopped when Mizuken made the announcement. On one hand, for the first time in what felt like forever, there was certainty. The certainty of freedom. They could erase their mistake and never walk down this path again. But on the other hand . . .

Was certainty really what Killua wanted?

He’d almost forgotten Kurapika was sitting across from him when he felt the blond’s numbness overtake his senses. Even such an intellectual being was at a complete loss for words now.

Every one of Killua’s instincts wanted to reassure the male across from him. To tell him that everything would be ok now. They had an answer. Bisky was going to come back and help them fix everything.

Instead, he found himself feeling helpless; like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart with a freezing cold grip. It was hard to even look at Kurapika, but that didn’t stop Killua from trying. He reached out with caution, only brushing the older male’s hand with his fingertips before Kurapika reflexively pulled away.

“I need a moment.” The blond had said robotically, before he stood and turned away.

Watching his back as he left was . . . painful. Killua forced himself to stay seated, instead of chasing after Kurapika like he so desperately wanted to do. It was for the best, he repeated in his head over and over again, it was for their own good. They had to go through with this, no matter what the outcome was.

* * *

 

Bisky had shaken off her pink plastic umbrella, and shrugged out of a similarly-colored raincoat, when she found Killua. He was sitting at the base of the stairs, his hands folded in front of the hard line that was his mouth. And his sharp, undecipherable blue eyes were on her.

“Let’s find a place to sit down and talk properly.” She found herself saying.

Almost immediately, she’d brewed some tea and politely asked Mizuken if she and Killua could have the living room. Once the man was gone and her cup was warming her freezing hands, Bisky felt the corners of her lips turn up.

“I thought you’d be happier about this. You’re getting what you wanted.” Her voice was gentle, almost surprised with a hint of amusement.

“I am. I think.” Killua instantly blurted out. “I mean . . . I’m a little confused.”

“That’s natural.” Bisky reassured. “You’re not just feeling your own emotions.”

“Yeah . . . Yeah, that’s probably it.” Killua agreed with a halfhearted nod.

Silence quickly descended after that. Bisky sipped at her tea, then spoke again, “Where is Kurapika?”

“Outside. He’s been out there for almost an hour now. I keep trying to reach out to him with the, you know. But he’s just not answering me.” Killua had said, tapping his temple for emphasis.

“We’ll go and get him in a moment. It’s better that I speak to you separately for now.” The somber atmosphere from earlier had returned with a vengeance, and Killua was staring at his teacher in such tense apprehension. As if she was about to tell him how the world would end.

Bisky’s stomach twisted uncomfortably the longer Killua stared at her. She honestly thought he would be happy about this . . . Not pale and scared, as he was now. She could see his hands shaking ever so slightly as he struggled to keep eye contact.

But she couldn’t delay any more. This had been put off for long enough.

* * *

 

Kurapika had been watching the storm ravage the trees and sweep up small branches in strong currents of wind. As if watching nature at work would somehow give him the answers he needed. He knew well that it never spoke back to him, even while he was growing up. But it was comforting enough to see the earth in motion. To know that life still continued on.

Lightening danced through the cloud-laden sky, setting every drop of rain alight only for a moment and creating a silhouette of the entire landscape, just before thunder shook the ground. Storms were beautiful. They cleansed the earth and allowed life to begin anew.

Kurapika suddenly frowned at that realization. He would soon be doing the same thing.

_“Biscuit instructed me to tell you both that she’s returning today. She has the answer you’re looking for.”_

Kurapika had nearly dropped whatever he’d been holding at the time. He still couldn’t remember what it was. But he did remember feeling very detached from his body the moment he heard those words. When he’d reentered his own head, it was such a sickening sensation. And to feel Killua reaching out to him, those fingers barely brushing his hand and their auras coming into contact in the process . . . He might have retched had he stayed there any longer.

 _“I need a moment.”_ He’d managed to get those words out before he forced himself to stand. And the whole time, Killua was _watching_ him . . . feeling so confused and desperate and reluctant that Kurapika had to get away. He needed to put a wall between them.

And that was how Kurapika ended up on the covered back porch of the townhouse, staring out at the storm and relishing the chilled winds. He figured he’d able to think there for a little while.

It hadn’t lasted for more than what felt like fifteen minutes, until the most painful flare from his aura that Kurapika had received in a long while threatened to open up his skull. He grasped at his head and waited out the blinding sensation, and then blinked himself back to reality when it was over. Killua’s shock and fear made bile rise instantly in Kurapika’s throat.

He’d known that Biscuit was here. He just wasn’t ready to face her. And that horrible amount of backlash must have meant something . . . She must have spoken to Killua already.

Kurapika still wasn’t ready. But it had to be done.

Killua shot straight out of his seat when Kurapika came back inside. The younger male stared at him so unblinkingly, and the despair in his eyes was nearly unbearable at such proximity. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but only failed.

Eventually he said, “You’re shaking.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Kurapika had to look away. He couldn’t handle those pleading blue eyes anymore.

Bisky stood quietly and faced the younger male. “Killua, would you mind giving us the room, please?”

Never before had Kurapika seen the younger male so reluctant to leave. He’d glanced over his shoulder at Kurapika only once, before heading up the stairs and out of sight.

“Please, sit.” Bisky softly offered, going to pour a third cup of tea. Killua’s had been abandoned, still steaming in its small cup in front of where he’d sat. Kurapika had a feeling his cup would share the same fate.

Once they sat across from each other, in complete silence save for the sounds of the storm outside, Bisky met Kurapika’s eyes and admitted, “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“As do I.”

Bisky did glance away at that. But still she continued on, handling her words gingerly. Kurapika held his breath when she stared speaking again. “I spoke with a friend of mine, who has first-hand experience in a bond like yours. They told me . . . That if you and Killua want to relinquish your bond, you have to forget each other. All of your memories of each other must be erased. And it’s advised that you never meet again in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take this moment to thank all of you for your views, your unyielding support, and wonderful reviews. I will admit I fell off the face of the earth for a while there, but now I have more time in my schedule to dedicate to writing (thank goodness haha). And Chapter 20 is already well underway, I promise. I really appreciate every single one of you and the time you all take to read my work. Writing just wouldn't be as fulfilling without you :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being continually late. I just finished this chapter. I am mostly convinced that it's not my best work. But I hope it somewhat makes up for my absence. Please enjoy and I will do my best to more accurately predict my next deadline.

Once some form of feeling returned to him, Kurapika felt . . . like he couldn’t breathe. Like he’d been hit so hard in the chest that it knocked the breath from him.

Kurapika now understood the interruption he felt from Killua earlier. Another was currently cutting through his temples in jagged slashes. He held his head and shut his eyes as the harsh reality replayed itself in his head. Over and over until he couldn’t think of anything else. He was right. He would completely lose Killua at the end of all this . . .

It would be as if they never met . . . Their memories of each other would cease to exist.

And yet, if it was for Killua’s sake . . .

“I’ll do it.” He answered without hesitation. Without listening to the way his heart hammered in his head. Without any concerns for how disoriented and ill he felt. “I’ll do it for him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Biscuit repeated for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Don’t be.” Kurapika said. “This is what he wanted.”

He was constantly reminding himself of that fact. That he was doing the right thing because it was what Killua wanted.

Bisky stood to gather the three forgotten tea cups on the table in front of them. “We’ll look into where we can find someone with memory-altering abilities in the morning. For now, you both need rest. I know it will be hard . . . but try to stay close to each other tonight.”

Soon enough, Kurapika was gently knocking on Killua’s door. And Killua silently allowed him in.

The quiet was unlike anything Kurapika had ever faced.

Had he been expecting it all to come to this? He was completely stunned, and yet . . . not surprised at all. He knew from the very beginning that Killua didn’t want their connection. He knew that Biscuit was determined to find some form of answer for them, a way to free them from this mistake of theirs. And now, they finally had that answer in the palms of their hands.

Perhaps he was still too numb to really grasp their situation.

Kurapika had honestly expected Killua to be relieved, at the very least. After all, he would get his previous life back; the life he apparently so desperately pined for. The life where he had feelings for someone that couldn’t return them . . .

A life without each other.

Kurapika wanted to believe he felt something like regret forming in the aura around them. It was so real, just begging him to put his faith in it. But he knew he couldn’t, not with the way Killua was now. The younger male’s state of mind was muddled at best.

In fact, it was nearly impossible for Kurapika to sense Killua’s exact feelings. They were so indescribably cluttered and interwoven; one single emotion couldn’t be untangled from all the rest. But he could sense a select few that stood out.

Confusion, fear, desperation, hopelessness . . . with the faintest undertone of something like reassurance. But it only became more and more lost with each passing second. Those were among what felt like thousands of other feelings, all jumbled together in such a mess that Kurapika couldn’t even imagine trying to pick them apart and analyze them.

It was a rare moment when Kurapika wished he could directly read Killua’s thoughts. Regardless of the risk of hearing something he might regret.

They sat together in silence, in the dark gray-blue that the storm outside was casting. A mute flash of lightning passed over the window, briefly lighting up Killua’s profile. And Kurapika didn’t stop himself from staring.

Despite everything they had been through, despite all the trials, challenges, and sacrifices . . . No matter how many times the younger male hid behind his carefully constructed walls . . . Killua was _beautiful_ , and Kurapika would give anything for him. Anything and everything.

And if that meant they would never see each other again. That they would never know each other, for the rest of their mortal lives . . . Kurapika would give that up too.

For someone he loved so very much.

Kurapika would openly admit it now, at least to himself. He was in love with Killua. And he knew he had been for quite a while. Gods, he wished he could just come right out and say it. Those three words that choked him and burned in his chest. He needed Killua to hear them before they lost each other for good . . .

Killua had eventually given a sparse sideways glance, getting nervous under the blond’s gaze. _“What is it?”_ he seemed to ask with his eyes.

So Kurapika answered. With a delicate touch, he took Killua’s face in his hands and just studied him in the dark; his strong yet balanced features. Another shock of light from the storm illuminated them both. And then Kurapika saw, if only for a split second, how truly _frightened_ Killua looked.

_Don’t be afraid._

_I’m here for you._

_I love you . . ._

There were so many things Kurapika wanted to say. Things that wouldn’t help put Killua at ease at all, but still they clawed their way up his throat, threatening to be heard one way or another if Kurapika dared to open his mouth.

He couldn’t imagine Killua pushing him away in the last weeks, or even days they had together . . . all because he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself. He wouldn’t survive it.

He needed to be close to him, while they were still able.

And he knew, that even now he could destroy that with three simple words.

It was moments like these that served as harsh reminders that Killua was still only eighteen years old. Kurapika remembered being that age. Being considered an adult but knowing he wasn’t ready for such a thing. Knowing what people would expect of him and having to make some of the toughest choices he’d ever faced. Choices he knew would affect him for the rest of his life.

He could empathize with Killua, he would tell himself. He repeated to himself over and over to _understand where Killua is coming from, you remember being that age . . . don’t think about yourself, do what’s best for him._

Otherwise, he could never bring himself to let Killua go.

“I told her I’d do it.” Kurapika finally spoke. And despite feeling Killua’s shock, he continued, “It’s our only way out-”

A strong grip had Kurapika by his upper arm and was suddenly pulling him forward. Looking into blue eyes that were now so close to his own, Kurapika lost all further thought. “Please don’t say that.” Killua had whispered to him.

And all it took was the slightest lean forward before insistent lips prevented Kurapika from saying anything else. The touch alone was warm, comforting, _safe_ . . . but before he could allow himself to surrender to it, he pulled away.

“Wait, please . . . We shouldn’t do that anymore.” He pleaded as their faces still remained close. Killua could surely feel him shaking now.

Kurapika didn’t stop Killua from reaching out and wrapping his arms around the blond’s waist. They remained that way for a while, nearly frozen in place, until Killua answered, “I know . . . I just don’t know what else to do . . .” he breathed in a broken rasp, his voice barely audible.

Kurapika was too afraid to open his eyes. He felt every one of Killua’s lingering breaths fan past his lips, and the sickening fear that rose in both their throats. “All I want is for you to be happy-”

And Kurapika was kissed again, but the act was fleeting and little more than a restrained brush of mouths. He wanted nothing more than to lean in, and indulge in the safety net that was the intimacy between them . . . He could feel Killua’s shameless agreement to this idea. But the younger male still held himself back.

The greatest temptation in the world was staring Kurapika in the face and telling him to just _let go_. It was the only thing that made sense between them now. It was the only familiar thing they had left, and soon it would be gone as well . . .

Killua’s quiet, surprised gasp as he felt Kurapika relax in his arms was inaudible against the howling wind and rain outside. And yet, Killua didn’t dare move. His hands remained frozen on Kurapika’s lower back.

Just as they had during their first kiss.

But the memory was banished as fast as it surfaced.

Kurapika wanted kiss all the doubt out of Killua’s features; wanted to help him forget in the only way he knew how. Killua seemed to respond to him, his hands leaving the blond’s hips to reach up and stroke his face.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” It almost seemed like those words escaped without Killua’s permission, and before Kurapika could reply, he was being kissed yet again. This time was so much deeper, without any of the restraint from before, and Kurapika could do nothing but savor the taste of Killua’s mouth.

It was strange how heightened Kurapika’s senses felt. Their connection should have been familiar at this point, but this more intimate part of it was still new to him . . . He was so in tune with Killua, so sensitive to his every thought and movement. He could feel that Killua wanted to be gentle and treasure him, but in the same breath he wanted to hold Kurapika down and _ravage_ him.

And Kurapika was perfectly amenable to both.

As long as he could hold Killua tonight and never have to let him go. At least until-

Kurapika’s eyes widened and he nearly squeaked as he felt sharp teeth threatening to break the skin of his bottom lip. But Killua promptly released him and growled out, “Stop thinking and let me take care of you.”

Oh no. Kurapika hadn’t been prepared for their eyes to meet again. That blue gaze that always saw him for what he really was; that always amazed him and frustrated him and made him happy to the point of tears. He could even see his own glowing scarlet irises reflected in them and giving a faint red glow to his pale skin . . . Before he could allow any more thoughts to take over, he kissed Killua once more.

He relinquished any control he might have had in that moment, inviting Killua to dominate by taking one of his hands and leaning back. Once the younger male had pushed him down on the bed, Kurapika just admired the way Killua loomed over him. His pale skin, his lean yet powerful body, his soft silver hair, and those eyes Kurapika could never imagine himself growing tired of. A gentle smile graced him, and he simply enjoyed the feeling of having Killua so close. Just knowing that he was there with him.

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” Maybe Kurapika needed to finally hear himself say it out loud without really caring about Killua’s reaction. Yes, he’d felt something like surprise on Killua’s end of their connection, but it just didn’t matter to him now. He’d reached up towards Killua’s shoulders, to pull him down enough to taste his lips once more.

Something in the back of the blond’s mind wanted him to believe that Killua agreed with him. But he almost didn’t want to risk hoping for it. They had already decided what they would do with their futures. It wasn’t as if Killua would suddenly change his mind.

So for now, Kurapika wanted to create memories he could carry with him until the time came.

Kurapika’s heart ached when he saw the way Killua was looking at him. The younger male was thoroughly taking in the sight of the blond beneath him, but something deeper lingered beyond that. Something that made a tiny yet damnable bubble of _hope_ warm Kurapika’s chest. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to entertain or banish the fantasy.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Kurapika eventually reassured with a gentle touch to Killua’s cheek. “Just be here with me.”

They continued to take their time with each other, slowly but surely ridding each other of clothing and pressing kisses to every inch of gradually exposed skin. Kurapika lifted himself up to help get his shirt off, and the fabric soon slid off his arms and to the floor.

Both were shirtless and working on their remaining clothes when Kurapika felt teeth in his shoulder. He cried out instantly at the sensation of Killua’s warm fangs on his bare flesh. It was just the right amount of pain and pleasure that made Kurapika melt beneath him. He moaned rather loudly as Killua turned from gentle biting to sucking, being sure to leave a mark.

With the little self-control he had left, Killua relinquished his hold on Kurapika’s neck to glance over at the bedroom door. And Kurapika only shook his head, knowing instantly what Killua was worried about.

_I don’t care if they hear us._

And a suddenly wide-eyed Killua was staring down at him.

It had only taken a few more precious seconds for Kurapika to realize that he had just communicated telepathically with Killua.

After the shock passed, they gradually relaxed in each other’s arms. Killua had gotten off the blond, instead choosing to lay at his side. And they eased into simple kisses as Killua threaded his hands through Kurapika’s hair. As they broke a kiss to catch their breath, Killua met Kurapika’s eyes again with a puzzled but awed look.

_I can’t believe I actually heard that._

_I can hear you too, you know._

What a time for this ability to show itself. Cheadle’s notes certainly didn’t say anything about this. Regardless, Kurapika couldn’t help but feel grateful that Killua hadn’t pushed him away because of it. On the contrary, they felt . . . closer now? Or perhaps it was purely circumstantial? It was honestly hard to tell. But Kurapika wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste. He began lifting himself from bed and as soon as Killua tried to follow him, he put a hand to the younger male’s chest

_Trust me._

Killua laid back down without a word, although his curiosity was hard to miss. Kurapika only chuckled as he went past Killua’s waistband and admired the prominent curve of an erection beneath fabric. And even in the dark, Kurapika could see his partner’s blush.

_You act like I’ve never touched you here._

Killua turned his head away rather shyly. _I’ve just never had anyone’s face . . . down there before._

The way Kurapika almost laughed at him was embarrassing. Killua had contemplated stopping him . . . until he felt thin fingers undoing the button of his jeans. And he’d looked just in time to see Kurapika pulling the zipper down- with his teeth.

That visual just made him want to forget the day they’d had. That they had been given the most terrible news. That they only had weeks or maybe even days left to spend knowing each other. How was Kurapika still able to smile like that? To tease him so light-heartedly, while still knowing what would become of them?

_Stop._

Killua didn’t even have to think the word. Just the uncomfortable feeling beforehand was enough for Kurapika to back away.

“Are you alright?” the blond spoke, the sound of his voice in the outside world already sounding strange to Killua.

The more Killua allowed the silence to drag on, the more he was sure the mood between them had died. Fuck, he was so confused. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. This felt wrong, but at the same time he wanted it more than anything. And still, Kurapika sat before him on the bed, as kind and as patient as ever. Even the look in his eyes was so damn understanding. It made Killua frustrated with himself as he struggled to give Kurapika an answer.

And Kurapika only took Killua’s chin in one hand, and gently moved him so their eyes could meet.

“We don’t have to do this.” The older male spoke again.

 _I want to._ Killua’s thoughts instantly supplied. _But I . . ._

The drone of heavy rain against the roof took over as Killua tucked into himself. He expected Kurapika to get tired of all his stalling and unfinished thoughts by now . . . But no. The blond still sat in the same spot, giving all of his attention to Killua and waiting for him to properly gather his thoughts.

And something within Killua was finally growing tired of running away.

_I don’t want to forget you._

Killua was kissed immediately after that, the act practically draining the oxygen from his lungs. They pulled away only slightly, just to look at each other with half-lidded blue and scarlet eyes. Killua almost had half a mind to protest what they were doing, but Kurapika was between his legs once again and that burning gaze was piercing him.

_I know you’re scared. I am too. So please . . . just be here with me._

The words in Killua’s head sent his blood racing through his veins. And Kurapika had settled his hands on Killua’s already open jeans, silently asking permission. The slightest nod had the blond undressing him the rest of the way.

_You’re so beautiful, Killua._

Before Killua could find the decency to blush, he felt a warm, wet mouth on him. His body jerked up and his mouth fell open at the contact. He panted as tightened lips worked their way up and down his length. He fought with his hips to keep them still and one hand shot down to tangle in mussed blond hair. Kurapika’s hair was so soft, and his mouth was heaven if Killua ever believed in it.

But then Killua looked down, into the radiant scarlet eyes that met his, and began to rethink that last statement. Before he could think anymore, Kurapika did _something_ with his tongue that made Killua’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Oh fuck . . . Kurapika . . .” his quiet moans were firmly hidden by a free hand.

 _I want to hear you._ The Kuruta had reached up to push Killua’s hand away while teasing him with delicate flicks of his tongue.

“But I-” Killua had started to plead as he felt Kurapika take hold of his hands, and pin them to the bed.

_Call my name._

Kurapika had retracted his mouth, only to roughly suck at the very tip. And drive Killua insane with the way he was doing it. “K-Kurapika . . . Ah, please don’t stop . . . _Kurapika_.”

Those white-hot scarlet eyes began to remind Killua of liquid fire as they seared right through him. He watched as Kurapika took him deeper, as far as he could go before he choked. Which was nearly all the way, Killua realized with a jolt of lust. He could only shake and moan beneath that mouth that held him captive. But he refused to neglect watching the blond work. Killua never once took his eyes off the way he was settled between his legs, the way his head bobbed, and his tongue swirled and flicked in unspeakable ways.

And soon enough, he found himself chuckling through heavy pants.

Who knew that even like this, Kurapika was still gorgeous?

The blond had curiously looked up before sucking harder and sending Killua’s head back to the pillow.

 _What’s so funny?_ Came a teasing question.

_Nothing . . . I just can’t get over how beautiful you are._

Kurapika’s grip on him had loosened, allowing Killua to properly hold his hands. And then he continued the sweet torture that made Killua feel so lightheaded and-

“ _Oh_ . . . If you keep doing that, I- I’ll . . . Wait, please!”

Kurapika had taken his mouth away, his lips a noticeable pink and still very wet. He looked lovely like that, Killua decided.

“Is everything alright?” Kurapika had asked.

“Everything’s fine, I promise.” Killua answered as he tried unsuccessfully to pull Kurapika up and over by his hands. When the blond didn’t move he added. “But I want to do this together.”

_Who says this has to be the only time? We have the rest of the night ahead of us . . ._

Kurapika’s thought was punctuated by a lick and a chuckle. Killua found himself leaning back at the touch and allowing Kurapika to continue. And if he thought the Kuruta had been working to send him over the edge before, it was nothing compared to now.

That dexterous pink tongue slid roughly over the head and collected a stream of precome, and right after his hot mouth closed over him and started to suck. He’d even involved a hand at one point, stroking him while still using his lips and tongue . . . And those _eyes_. They just made Killua harder every time he looked at them . . .

He couldn’t hold on for much longer.

“Kurapika . . . Oh my . . . _fuck_.”

The sensation was building, pooling and burning in his abdomen. Twisting around the base of his spine. He reached down to hold Kurapika’s blond head as he outright moaned and gasped. He started moving his hips, thrusting himself in and out of that mouth and hand. And Kurapika only encouraged him.

_Please Killua . . . Let me taste you._

He completely lost it at those words, his orgasm being ripped from his body in powerful waves. He cried out loudly, Kurapika’s name getting lost somewhere between his lost breath and blurred vision.

Kurapika was at his side soon enough, catching his breath and smelling distinctly of Killua. He wrapped an arm around the blond and kissed his cheek as afterglow washed over him.

_I’m taking care of you next._

Kurapika’s hum of agreement was the most beautiful sound Killua could have ever hoped to hear in that moment.

* * *

 

“When were you planning on telling me about this?”

Botobai, the Dragon of the Zodiacs and their most senior member, had flinched at the icy tone of the 14th Chairman of the Hunter Association. Her darkened blue-green eyes and flattened ears certainly brought back unpleasant memories as Botobai stood motionless in front of the rest of his fellow council members.

It may as well have been a trial. Or at the very least an informal interrogation. Cheadle had picked up a remote that laid in front of her, and clicked a button that controlled the large screen behind her.

The screen was replaying security footage from the prison. It displayed a small woman in a voluminous pink dress with a long blonde ponytail being escorted down to Botobai’s office. She walked down the hall, then disappeared behind the office door. Cheadle replayed this as many times as she was content with.

Of all the times for Botobai to forget the cameras. Given Cheadle’s current state of alarm, he should have expected her to actually start using them again, to keep records of what went on in the prison. It was a mere oversight that was now costing him dearly.

Cheadle rose from her chair, the thing nearly tipping over in the wake of her frustration. “We _did not_ give any clearance to this _unauthorized_ breach of contract. Did you happen to authorize Biscuit’s little visit?”

“No. She came on her own accord, unannounced.”

“Why did you choose to accommodate her?”

“I did not choose, she forced my hand-”

“How could she possibly do that?” Cheadle’s eye narrowed, her ears nearly invisible against her head now. “Did she threaten the Association?”

“No, not explicitly.”

“Well, that isn’t entirely important at the moment. I’m sure we could handle anything she has planned. What I want to know is why she is so desperate to speak to M.” That was when the Chairman stopped, her eyes lighting up in realization before she almost snarled, “You didn’t let her . . .”

“I did.”

“If you tell me _every detail_ of what she told you, you will keep your status as both Zodiac and Triple-Star Hunter. But if you betray us one more time, Botobai . . . Mark my words, you will lose everything before this is over.”

* * *

 

It was nearly pitch black in Cheadle’s office now, save for a lone desk lamp. She was sure everyone had left Association headquarters by now. It was nearly midnight the last time she bothered to check the clock . . .

_This is worse than I could have ever imagined . . ._

Cheadle swore she’d felt the symptoms of a heart attack setting in, when she found out one of her own had turned on her in such a crude, underhanded fashion. Botobai was always so faithful in his service to the Association, first under Isaac Netero and then herself. He was the last Zodiac that Cheadle would have ever suspected of treason.

But here she was, placing the oldest and most loyal member of their council under house arrest until further notice.

During Project M5, Botobai had been Cheadle’s eyes and ears. He was the Zodiacs’ representative, meant to lead and retain order within the research group.

The day they first came to an agreement with M, whom they finally wrestled into submission; five soldiers had already died within mere hours. All the bodies showed obvious signs of radiation poisoning.

After days of testing and the deaths of three researchers, they found the radiation originated from M’s broken, vengeful Nen; it was a kind of byproduct that appeared to only exist under very specific conditions. And it also happened to be highly contagious. No one could be close to it without suffering slowly and painfully. Even the guards at the prison were trapped there for the rest of their lives, with the radiation slowly eating away at them despite their best efforts. They would never see the outside world again.

But there was a report of M breaking out of the prison a few years back, and Botobai was the one who single-handedly returned them. Botobai had come into direct contact with M . . . and remained unharmed. There was no sign of even the slightest bit of damage, and he could commune between the prison and the rest of the world, with no harmful side effects.

He was a good Hunter, perhaps one of the best. But his past deeds didn’t change the crime he committed. It didn’t help Cheadle trust him again.

She now held in her hands the proof of Botobai’s crime: the written record of his confession. It was hard to believe it only occurred that morning . . .

_“I have served this Association for many years now, ever since I was a young man.  All I have ever done, I did for the good of our community. But that does not excuse my crimes, and I will answer for them. I should first mention that Biscuit did make a partial threat against you, Chairman. And she also threatened to blackmail me if I reported her visit to you. But either this situation or Biscuit’s knowledge of me will result in the loss of my position. I suppose that means I have nothing to lose now . . .”_

It shocked her to even think of Botobai admitting such a thing. She couldn’t help but wonder what else her fellow Zodiac had done. What _else_ could possibly be on par with the blatant treason he committed?

_“. . . I briefly overheard Biscuit speaking with the prisoner. She spoke of another bond, and mentioned the participants were young and their bond was new. Biscuit was indeed asking M for guidance, but in what exactly I never found out . . . After Biscuit departed from the prison, I did track her through her flight records. She boarded an airship headed to Lingon Airport in Yorknew City. And earlier records show a previous flight with the same travel path. Because of this, I have reason to believe she is hiding the new bond there.”_

There was only one way to be certain of Botobai’s claim. And Cheadle was given no choice in the matter. This problem needed to be contained immediately.

* * *

 

_Biscuit,_

_I tried to have this sent as fast as I could before it could be discovered. Who knows how late this message will be when you finally receive it. I have been temporarily decommissioned, and Cheadle is searching for you and your charges. She believes them to be a serious threat to our world. I’m sure you knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. And the only advice I can give to you now is to run. I can only hope you’re able to escape before she finds you._

Bisky had honestly been hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this . . .

But Cheadle had left her no choice.

Bisky hadn’t wasted any time before calling Killua and Kurapika downstairs the following morning and delivering possibly the hardest news she’d ever given anyone.

_“Cheadle sees you two as a threat. The last bond I studied was incredibly destructive, and she will send people after us to prevent something like the first bond from happening again. She may even try to kill us. I swear I’ll do my very best to protect you. But we may have to go to another continent, to throw her off our trail for a little while. Until we find the Nen-user we need.”_

Oh yes, Bisky expected the borderline hatred she got from Killua after she admitted those very hard truths. She expected the disappointment from Kurapika and Mizuken. She expected the silence and the mistrust that radiated off all three of them whenever they were all in the same room.

 _“Why the hell didn’t you tell us earlier?!”_ Killua had eventually approached her after nearly a day of pure silence. _“It would have been fucking nice to know that the Chairman of the Hunters Association wants us dead! Why would you hide this from us?! From me?!”_

_“I was trying to protect you-”_

_“I can’t believe this. You wanted us to keep it . . . Something that could get us both killed!!”_

_“You’re right for feeling this way, Killua. At first, I was not thinking about you. In the past I was being arrogant and thinking I could bribe Cheadle with the prospect of continuing our research. But I was wrong, and my top priority now has been to protect you.”_

_“I can’t even . . . You expect me to trust you, and you turn around and hide things from me?! How can I trust anything you say now? Is there anything else I should know, Master?”_

Bisky hadn’t said anything in response. She knew she deserved every ounce of Killua’s anger. She knew she didn’t deserve his trust, or anyone else’s for that matter. They were right to keep their distance.

Another day had passed. Bisky and Mizuken scouted the area around the townhouse nearly every hour, to make sure there was no sign of any unwelcome presence. Killua and Kurapika were barely allowed outside, but they stayed together as they were instructed. They seemed to be getting along, although their continued silence was misleading. Bisky was looking for an airship or perhaps a boat to secretly take them to the country of Kakin, which would take them far enough away from the Hunters Association for the time being.

Killua had approached Bisky once more during that time, with a completely different demeanor. He tugged at his spiked silver hair and silently sighed before he said, _“My older brother can do it. He has needles that manipulate memories, and he’s used them on me before. I just need to convince him. It won’t be easy, but he’s the only person I know that could help us.”_


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience and understanding. It feels great to add another chapter to this monster that owns me. And it’s surreal to think that it’s been a part of my life for almost two years now.  
> I should first announce that this story is almost solely based off of the 2011 anime remake of Hunter x Hunter, up until the end of the Chairman Election arc (save for a few details I paid homage to from either the 1999 anime or the manga). I don’t know if I’ve specifically mentioned this before, but I want all of us to be on the same page where that is concerned. As you’ve all most likely noticed, I changed this in the story summary to clear up any confusion. The original reason I didn’t include the Dark Continent arc is because it isn’t finished; but I will admit only using the 2011 anime has granted me a lot of creative leeway.  
> So that being said, I hope you enjoy this next addition. Without you all, this collection of words wouldn’t mean nearly as much to me as it does now.

Chapter 21

Tired. So very tired.

That was the only description Cheadle could give for how she currently felt. Why had she pretended that the phenomenon that happened four years ago was something that would only occur once? She knew this was bound to happen again. Why hadn’t she set procedures in place for the future? There wasn’t even so much as a loosely-formed contingency . . . she cursed how unprepared she was.

When Pariston Hill suddenly appointed Cheadle as the 14th Chairman so long ago, she never expected the job to be easy. But she didn’t know the full extent of her new responsibilities. The secrets she had to keep, and the choices she had to make with the integrity of the Association hanging in the balance . . . Sometimes, it made her want to step down and only keep her title as Zodiac. “Give this burden to someone else” she would inevitably think to herself.

She still didn’t want to admit how much becoming Chairman had changed her as a person. She’d stubbornly held on to the idea that the job wouldn’t change her; she wouldn’t let it. Or that was what she thought at first. How did Netero carry on as Chairman for so many years and still act like the same person???

Well that was just it: it _was_ an act. Although his act was for different reasons . . . in the end it was all the same to Cheadle. There was a piece of her that went missing after she accepted the responsibility of keeping order among an entire community of super-powered beings. She wished she could name just what piece it was, but all she felt was the empty space it had left behind in her. And ultimately, she had to make some sort of peace with it in order to move forward.

But just because she had accepted the conditions of her title . . . it didn’t mean the consequences didn’t haunt her.

It hurt Cheadle to know that she was being forced to take Biscuit down, and two children along with her. Kids who most likely had no idea what was happening to them. Cheadle was willing to bet Biscuit hadn’t told them the whole story.

It was with a heavy heart that she now sat at the head of the Zodiac conference table, facing the rest of her colleagues with grim determination. Everyone was more than aware of the Dragon’s empty chair on her right. She could only hope it served to show how dire this ordeal could become if they didn’t act now.

“I know where Biscuit is.” Cheadle announced without preamble. “She has the new bond with her. Be warned, the participants are young and most likely have no grasp on what kind of situation they’re in.”

“What course of action do you suggest?” Mizaistom respectfully requested when the rest of the room remained silent.

“This isn’t an easy or fair thing for me to ask of you. But the only way we had any chance of surviving the previous bond was by eliminating it.” Cheadle felt the palpable reluctance of her colleagues. But instead of shrinking away, she cleared her throat and tried again. “None of us should take this decision lightly, but we have to understand what is at stake here-”

“Killing kids.” Kanzai growled under his breath, his small pupils fixated on the Chairman. “I didn’t know we did that kind of work here.”

Cheadle straightened up and frowned at the Tiger. She kept her voice as calm and controlled as possible when she continued, “Do you think I like how little of a choice we have? What other options are there?”

“There are only two this time, right?” Geru had spoken out in a quiet, contemplative hiss. “We could keep them alive, and learn from them.”

And Piyon, who had been tensely poised over her closed pink laptop, looked up at Geru, “If they don’t destroy everything like the last ones did, then I don’t see why we would have to kill them.”

“Let’s keep in mind that Biscuit has never betrayed us until now.” Mizaistom pointed out from the far end of the table. “She has to have a good reason.”

Cheadle felt her teeth grinding together before she was aware she was doing it. She had to keep a level head. She was a leader. She couldn’t allow these unfortunate circumstances to work against the safety of their world. “We all thought Botobai would never turn his back on us, but I don’t need to remind you all of what happened there. And Biscuit is officially a traitor to the Association, just as he is. It is too risky to keep this new bond alive.”

“How do you know?” Cluck had spoken, her feathers looking distinctly ruffled from lack of sleep. “We’ve never met them. We don’t even know what they look like. So, you expect us to hunt down children because they could potentially pose a threat?”

“Why is Biscuit hiding them from us?” Cheadle sternly pointed out. “Why is she going to such great lengths to make sure we know nothing about them? Is she afraid we won’t like what we see if we ever find out?”

More uncertain silence fell in the conference room. In the midst of the quiet, a male voice, possibly Saccho’s, had murmured just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Or maybe she’s afraid you’ll try to kill the new bond before she can even negotiate with us.”

“I am doing the best I can!” Cheadle finally yelled, rising from her chair and slamming her gloved palms on the table. “I’m only trying to keep this world safe. And I know this is not the best way for everyone. But for the majority of us, it is. Taking the new bond out will produce the most effective result. And if Netero were here today, he would have had issued the same order without question. He wouldn’t have even bothered to consult you. I know you all know this.”

Cheadle was met with silence. They knew she was right.

“Will one of you do it? Or do I have to call in someone else?”

Cluck instantly crossed her arms with a deep frown. “I refuse to kill children. Do what you feel is necessary, but I won’t have their blood on my hands.”

Low murmurs in favor of Cluck’s decision outnumbered Cheadle, and everyone looked away. It made the 14th Chairman livid. “Don’t any of you remember what happened last time?! The other world leaders will declare war if word of this gets to them! We have no choice but to stop it before things get out of hand-”

“We do remember the last incident, Cheadle.” Mizaistom interrupted. “The first bond was created by adults who actually knew what kind of power they were cultivating. And to be fair, they had ill intentions even before their bond came into play. I personally think that this new bond was created by mistake. Why else would Biscuit be protecting them so fiercely?”

“I agree with Mizai.” Piyon added. “We should wait until we get a chance to talk with Bisky, and find out what’s really going on. If there really is a threat, I feel like we could tell just by seeing it for ourselves.”

Why?

Why was Cheadle’s own council being this lenient about something so dangerous? It was disrespectful, even foolish of them to undermine the same power that nearly cost the destruction of their entire community. She would not take this kind of skeptical disobedience. She would override this opposition and serve to keep their community safe, just as Netero would have done.

“Biscuit had so many chances to approach us. All the time she’s spent sneaking around behind our backs could have been spent telling the truth. She has given us absolutely no reason to trust her.” With her hands folded behind her back, Cheadle continued. “I plan to take action to correct this problem, as soon as possible. Those of you who plan to do nothing, feel free to leave. For the moment, you are no longer needed.”

* * *

 

As the last bits of deep orange sunlight dwindled behind distant forested mountains, Bisky suddenly found herself alone with Mizuken in the living room. On their last night in the townhouse, no less.

The Nen masters were usually within eyeshot of their boys, dutifully keeping watch just in case. But now, the two of them were off making necessary preparations for tomorrow. Killua was giving his older brother a much-needed phone call, and Kurapika was trying to use one of his underground connections to secure a private, untraceable airship that could take them out of the country.

For the first time in a long time, Bisky and Mizuken weren’t needed for anything just yet. And that left them very much alone together. Bisky could already feel the other Nen master’s eyes on her, trying to ask her so many burning questions without using words.

An eternity could have passed between them, and Bisky would have been perfectly fine with the silence they shared. But inevitably, Mizuken spoke.

“May I ask why?”

Bisky didn’t look away from her phone as she replied, “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Mizuken almost sounded annoyed as he continued, “You don’t owe me anything, but . . . why did you lie to them? Why would you plan to use them as a bargaining chip like that?”

There it was. Bisky wondered who would ask her for an explanation and when. But Mizuken would have been her last guess.

And what a time for him to ask. They were leaving in less than eight hours from now; attempting to run from the organization that held absolute authority over every Hunter in the world . . . It was oddly appropriate, Bisky couldn’t help but think.

She sighed and pocketed her phone. This would take a while; she hoped Mizuken was prepared to listen. “I was curious at first. But then I got greedy . . . They fit together in a way I never expected. The bond I studied before couldn’t hold a candle to what they have. They are _incredible_ , and they haven’t even reached their full potential. The Hunter in me selfishly wanted to continue my research, just to see what they could become. To see what they could do with their gift.”

 An unconvinced noise came from the back of Mizuken’s throat. “I haven’t spent much time with you, but I know you aren’t that shallow. What other reasons did you have?”

Bisky crossed her legs and picked at a ruffle on her glove. “Technically speaking, I had a full-proof plan. Part of the reason I sent the letter in the first place was to find a solution for Killua’s sake, and if one existed I had to contact M in order to get it. But I also knew the moment I sent correspondence, Cheadle would be alerted. She would consider all of us a threat; she would want Killua and Kurapika dead. Well, either dead or under her constant watch for the rest of their lives. There is really no easy way to resolve this, and I knew when it started. In the beginning, I thought to myself that if I could have the opportunity to show her the bond, even she would recognize the raw talent in it and get curious. She would be tempted to finish what we started four years ago.”

“So you lied to Killua when you sent the letter?”

“Yes and no . . . I was prepared for the situation to go either way, in my favor or against me.”

“Omission is still lying.” Mizuken looked dismissive yet still intrigued before he asked, “But why the change of heart, if you had accepted either outcome?”

“That’s an easy one.” Bisky gave a small, self-depreciating smile. “It hurts my ego, but I’ll admit I have no right to manipulate their futures. I should have never tried to control them in the first place. I’m carrying out what Killua wants because I don’t want this to end in disaster. Now, their freedom is more important to me than any amount of research.” Guilt and shame briefly crossed Bisky’s features until she looked back at the other Nen master. “I want to help them through this in any way I can, so they can walk away alive and unharmed. Handing them over to Cheadle the way they are now would keep them alive, but they wouldn’t be free. Erasing their memories and keeping them apart would guarantee their freedom.”

“And you still haven’t told them everything you just told me?” At Bisky’s purposeful sideways glance, Mizuken shook his head. “Even now, you’re keeping secrets from them. I can see why Killua doesn’t trust you.”

“They still have _no idea_ what’s happening to them. I figure since they both decided to get rid of the bond, it’s not necessary to tell them anything else.” Noticing the deeply concentrated look on Mizuken’s features, Bisky couldn’t help but ask, “Will you tell Kurapika?”

“I respect him. I hate lying to him.”

“It would keep him safe-”

“I don’t believe in keeping my student ignorant, especially because I think I know what’s best for him.” Mizuken folded his arms across his chest, firmly stating, “I will be telling him everything you just told me. And I’ll leave it up to him whether he tells Killua or not.”

Bisky knew it wouldn’t take much to lose control over the situation at this point. Although, she had been fooling herself with the illusion of having the upper hand for far too long. It was time for her to let go.

“I understand.”

* * *

 

Killua sat by himself, shut away in his bedroom. He’d taken almost twenty minutes beforehand to pace and yank on his hair as he agonized. He honestly couldn’t recall a time he felt so sick with anxiety.

Things were getting out of control . . . No, this was already so much bigger than Killua could have imagined. It had been ever since the bond was created, and Killua was just now finding this out.

How could Bisky have done this to them? From the beginning, it wasn’t a matter of what any of them wanted: It was a matter of staying alive or being hunted down. All along there was no choice to make, and it weighed Killua down with the most debilitating helplessness.

A few nights ago, he was staring into Kurapika’s dazzling scarlet eyes and praying for things to get better. For the first time ever, he fantasized about staying with him. Not giving a damn about what anyone else thought, and keeping his memories.

 _Their_ memories.

But that was never possible, right from the beginning . . . The Chairman of the Hunters Association wanted them _dead_. In hindsight, it was honestly no wonder Bisky kept that gruesome information from them for as long as she could. But at the same time, Killua couldn’t help but blame her . . . and then that brought along a nagging voice that always said _even if you’d known back then, you’d still be as powerless as you are now._

Killua felt his hands shaking and sweating as he struggled to keep his phone in place. His pulse was racing, and somewhere in all his jumbled thoughts he felt Kurapika’s concern for him. He couldn’t for the life of him calm down enough to reassure the blond. He had to do something. He had to focus . . .

He had to call Illumi.

That thought alone was enough to make a cold, sick sense of fear rise in Killua; something he hadn’t felt since he left his family so long ago. He only sat and stared at his phone, as if it could somehow help him on its own. Oh he wished that was how this worked . . .

But he actually had to _talk_ to Illumi. _Ask him for help._ After not saying a word or even showing his face to his family for more than five years . . . This had to be greatest challenge Killua ever faced. Even figuring out his bond with Kurapika hadn’t been this tough. Sure, it hurt like hell at times and pissed him off, but it wasn’t as terrifying as Illumi.

Not even Tsubone could scare Killua like Illumi could . . . And that thought brought up another point.

Illumi would surely tell their family that Killua called. And Killua couldn’t even fathom the consequences of that. What would they do? Would they do anything at all?

Unless Killua could somehow persuade Illumi to not tell their family anything. On top of convincing him to use his memory-manipulating needles, to specifically help Killua and Kurapika to forget each other. Without telling Illumi exactly why he needed to do that in the first place.

Of course, once Killua explained himself Illumi would ask for some form of payment, regardless of how involved the request was . . . What could Killua possibly offer him in return? What did he have to give? He swallowed thickly, squeezing his phone to the point that it could crack at any moment.

He suddenly thought of one thing.

Something Illumi would never refuse, something he would literally do anything for . . .

And unfortunately, Killua was that desperate.

The line rang about five times before it was picked up . . . Killua had to say something. He had no choice.

“Aniki*?” he had forced out of his mouth, fighting the urge to hang up before he could hear anyone reply.

“Killu.” The monotone voice of Illumi Zoldyck held a sparse amount of surprise that made Killua feel uncomfortable. Then a long silence came, followed by a simple, “It’s been nearly six years.”

Did Illumi sound . . . upset? Killua couldn’t tell, but he pressed on. “I know. That’s not why I called. I’m in a bad situation right now, and I-”

“Only contact your family when you need something? Fair enough.”

Of course he should have expected Illumi to be difficult. Killua figured he deserved that for even needing to involve his brother in the first place.

“Are you gonna listen to me, or should I just hang up?” The silence he was met with was all Killua needed to continue. “Tomorrow I’ll be destroying my phone, so this is the only time I have to talk to you. I need you to meet me in Kakin three days from now. I have to ask you something, but I can only ask in person. Got it?”

“Ok.” The word had the barest hint of skepticism. And Killua took the curt reply as an opportunity to keep talking.

“Don’t tell our family I called. If you don’t take my offer afterward, tell them anything you want. But for now, keep quiet about this.”

“You didn’t even ask nicely.” Illumi replied with that pseudo-casual lilt that always sent shudders down Killua’s spine. “I wonder what’s so important that even Mother can’t know.”

“Mind your own business, and . . . I’ll make it worth your time.” Killua immediately cursed how weak his response was. He had to be careful about what he said, or else Illumi would know too much . . .

“If you say so, Killu.” Illumi said after a long, contemplative hum. “I’ll look for you in Kakin then.”

“No, wait for me to find you. I want to meet you alone. And you can’t bring anyone either. If you do, the deal is off.” Killua corrected with a bit more strength. How could he forget such an important detail? Illumi never failed to make him nervous . . .

There were so many things Illumi could have said, or even demanded, but instead he ended the conversation with a simple. “Ok. See you in three days.”

Why did that call go exactly the way Killua was hoping? Why was Illumi so quick to agree to all his terms? Killua had no idea, and it only scared him more to know he couldn’t guess what his brother would do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I apologize for this little rant of mine in advance, haha. But as far as I can tell, there is no true English equivalent for the Japanese title aniki, aside from the clunky-sounding “big brother”. How I usually go about dealing with using an English word/phrase verses a Japanese one, I judge first which translation would sound more appropriate, given the individual situation. As an example the English translation of Genei Ryodan reminds me of a travelling circus more than a deadly band of revered criminals, haha. Plus, I personally can’t imagine Kurapika hissing “Phantom Troupe” through angrily gritted teeth (if there must be an English dub to this anime, I can only hope they’ll be gentle with it). So I base my decisions concerning language as best as I can off of cultural/contextual accuracy, and then personal preference comes into play.  
> Thank you for taking the time to read this. I appreciate each and every one of you, and I’ll do my best to see this adventure through to the end. Thank you for accompanying me along the way :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone.  
> I owe you an apology. I’ve been hiding from my writing and life in general. From January to April, there were many unfortunate events that kept me from writing. I would rather not mention any specific details, but that period of time left me generally uncomfortable with myself, to the point that I would withdraw from everything around me (bless the friends and family members that had to deal with me back then). From April onwards, things have gotten better. But I found myself ignoring my writing, purposefully pushing it to the back of my mind like it wasn’t important to me. I used what happened in the first four months of this year to convince myself that I couldn’t write (or do anything) “the way I used to” anymore. But making up excuses for myself isn’t really why I decided to write this note.  
> I just wanted to say thank you again. All the gratitude in the world couldn’t help me express how I feel about the people who take time to read this crazy thing. I remember saying more than two long years ago that I never expected this obscure piece of fiction to do all that well, and I never imagined the responses I’d receive for it. I’m honored to see such intelligent, engaging and supportive comments . . . attached to something I’ve written, no less. It’s unreal to me.  
> I honestly thought this piece would drift even further into obscurity, getting lost among endless pages of other unfinished fanfictions, and eventually be forgotten altogether. Up until roughly two weeks ago, I thought that was the reality. But that’s where you all proved me dead wrong.  
> Thank you for staying. Thank you for reminding me. Thank you for being here. It means more than any words I could possibly think up. I hope this (possibly too long) chapter makes up for my absence.

Chapter 22

_“Promise me you’ll be careful.”_

Neon’s concern gnawed at Kurapika’s conscious longer than he would have liked. He had hung up the phone more than fifteen minutes ago, and here he was finally feeling guilty for asking to borrow one of her private airships. She wanted to do anything she could to help him, without question.

Kurapika couldn’t believe how much he was taking advantage of Neon. He frowned at the faint reflection of himself in a window, and realized the sky beyond it was nearly pitch black. He was on the phone longer than he imagined . . .

With Neon agreeing to lend them one of her airships, everything was going according to plan. This insane plan of theirs to try to hide from the Hunters Association, the very group that governed all Nen-users.

And it was then his recently-neglected, analytical mind seized the opportunity to think: _What will you do if this haphazard plan fails?_

What would he do indeed . . . It wasn’t as if they had many options left.

Biscuit’s foreboding words from only a few short days ago rang in his head: _Cheadle sees you two as a threat . . . She may even try to kill us._

It was about time Kurapika started looking at their situation for what it was: all of this could very well end in bloodshed. He wanted to do whatever it took to avoid violent confrontation, but even he knew there were no guarantees. If it was necessary, he would fight the Association with everything he had. All they had to do was make the mistake of striking first.

Before that thought could be entertained any further, there was a sudden, nauseating shift in Kurapika’s aura. One that made the room a spinning blur of colors and shapes. He reached out for Biscuit’s desk to keep himself from hitting the floor. Kurapika’s heart was a heavy, thudding rhythm deep in his head for a few long moments before he was able to stand again.

At this point in their connection, Kurapika was able to know approximately where Killua was at any moment. He was able to read his thoughts with little to no effort. The younger male was always a constant presence in Kurapika’s Nen . . . Until the blond found himself to be truly alone for the first time in months.

Killua was gone.

And no matter how hard Kurapika tried to mentally reach out, there was nothing. Something he would have considered well-deserved privacy a few weeks ago was now a startling emptiness he couldn’t explain. Killua was nowhere to be found . . . as if he no longer existed.

Kurapika rushed toward the bedroom door to find his partner. But before he could reach it, it was practically flung open.

Killua stood in the doorway, looking panicked until he registered Kurapika was standing right in front of him. “Thank fuck. You’re ok. I thought something happened to you . . .”

Without another word, they rushed downstairs to find Biscuit.

Biscuit switched her magenta gaze between the two of them, and her brows disappeared behind her blonde bangs for a moment before she admitted, “One of you blocked the other’s aura out and set up a temporary separation. It’s almost like an advanced form of Zetsu, except you’re hiding yourself from your partner specifically. Which is one more thing you technically shouldn’t be able to do, but it’s happening anyway.” With one more glance at the both of them, Bisky put a small fist to her chin. “If this happens again, don’t panic. Just close your eyes, relax, and your bond will open back up again.”

It only took a few seconds of slow breathing and focus until the stream of Killua’s consciousness melded with Kurapika’s once more. The feeling of being complete again surged through their veins, causing them to momentarily lose their breath.

Biscuit studied them until they were breathing normally, and then spoke again. “Make sure you get some rest soon. We’ll be leaving in about five hours.”

When the Nen master left the room, the two males locked gazes in silence. Now that they were connected again, that surely meant . . .

 _Can you hear me?_ Killua tentatively reached out with a telepathic question.

Immediate relief smoothed the worry in Kurapika’s features. He couldn’t have felt more at ease to have that voice in his head again, and yet . . . He averted his eyes and remained quiet for a moment before replying.

_I thought I lost you._

Killua grasped the blond’s arm with a gentle hand, turning his partner just enough to search hazel eyes with bright blue. _I’m still here, aren’t I?_

_For now._

Killua’s stomach tied itself in knots at those words. He recognized the immersive, spiraling sensation of Kurapika thinking. Living in deep thought was part of who the older male was, but this particular feeling . . . it was dark and daunting. It cut into Killua’s mind, reaching far beneath his skin and invading him with overwhelming imminence.

It hurt. It was painful, to be in this moment with no way of knowing if things would really be ok.

Resolve settled in Killua’s chest along with the pain. It told him he would do anything to keep this person before him safe. It told him there was something powerful that rooted him to them. Something all his feelings towards them, both good and bad, had in common. He finally had the courage, after all this time, to name it. All too late, he knew the words. And knew what would happen if this was allowed to continue.

Kurapika suddenly opened his mouth to speak in the outside world. “Killua, I need to tell you something.”

Killua’s heart had been racing already. It didn’t help that Kurapika’s was now matching its pace. He swallowed unsuccessfully with a dry throat, and watched a strange set of nerves play out on his partner’s face.

“I have no idea what will happen next. But while we’re still here, I . . .” Kurapika folded his arms in front of his chest, trying to mask the vulnerability that Killua sensed from him regardless. The blond took a deep breath before saying, “I need you to hear this.”

Kurapika tried to speak again, but his breath caught in his throat. The blond’s consciousness was flowing around Killua in such a forceful current. His distress, desperation, and longing gripped painfully at Killua’s heart. It dug in, and he couldn’t help but let it take hold.

It was hard to breathe again, all of a sudden.

“Killua, I-”

Killua swept the older male into his arms. He held a slender, shaking frame; and rested his cheek on soft blond hair that had lost its orchid scent weeks ago. Kurapika leaned into Killua, his head settling on the taller man’s collarbone.

“I would let go of everything if it meant you were safe.” Killua murmured next to Kurapika’s ear.

It was almost wonderful to feel warm waves of Kurapika’s emotions pass over him in response. When they finally let each other go, they silently mourned the loss of contact.

“We don’t have much time left. We should get some rest.” The blond quietly reasoned.

Killua reluctantly agreed with a small nod. He could only wonder how they were supposed to sleep while knowing what was to come.

* * *

 

Cheadle was absent-mindedly gathering piles of unused paper in her office. Trying to do a bit of the organizing she’d neglected for so long. She picked papers up, tapped them against the table, set them aside in a single neat stack, and started all over again. Going through familiar motions, as if this was just another early morning at Headquarters.

As if she hadn’t just sent one of her best agents to slaughter two children and their makeshift guardian . . .

She dropped the papers in her hand, letting them flutter to the carpeted floor. She couldn’t keep up the façade . . . she wasn’t even fooling herself by trying to feign normalcy. She was a murderer . . . she had been for so many years. She didn’t deserve to live a normal life anymore.

She didn’t blame the rest of the Zodiacs for making themselves scarce after their meeting yesterday. It was likely their last for a long while . . . At least until the new bond was put to rest for good.

Cheadle was still in the midst of her thoughts when she heard a knock on the double doors to her office.

She sighed, contemplating just staying silent until whoever it was got bored and left. But in the end, she uttered a quiet, “Come in.”

The door swung open, and for the first time in a long time Cheadle was surprised by who she saw. She didn’t have it in her to say anything; she could only stare in shock.

It was Beans, the ex-private secretary of the Association. She never expected him to set foot in this building again, after what had made him leave in the first place . . .

The small man closed the door behind him and smiled at her in that simple way she’d always remembered. “I was told I’d find you here.”

And there was the catch. Cheadle lowered her head and nearly bristled when she said, “Did they ask you to come here?”

“Yes and no.” Beans answered as he took a few steps forward. “Mizaistom sought me out to voice a few concerns, but ultimately I came here on my own. I wanted to speak with you myself.” Placing a white-gloved hand on the back of a chair, he gave another patient smile. “May I?”

With a nod from Cheadle, he took a seat. This would take longer than she suspected.

“You look tired.”

As much as Cheadle would love to keep pretending with small talk, she couldn’t bring herself to play along. “Please just say what you came to say.”

Beans sighed before he folded his hands in his lap. “What makes you believe you have no choice but to kill people you’ve never met? Who have not even committed a crime, I might add.”

“Biscuit is a traitor. She knew exactly what she was doing when she turned her back on us.”

“Please don’t act dense. You know who I’m talking about. Mizaistom said you called for the lives of two children yesterday.”

A low growl came from Cheadle. “If the other world leaders find out that we’ve allowed them to live, there will be war.”

“Are you really so sure of that?” The former secretary slowly shook his head. “The incidents that preceded Project M5 were complete catastrophes, I will grant you that. But the ones behind them were not children by any means-”

“My council has already made that point clear several times over.” Cheadle fought the urge to snarl. “And the fact that they’ve involved you in this is trying my patience.”

“I made the decision to involve myself.” The small man calmly reminded. “Is the reason you’re going this far simply because of the potential danger? Are you exacting revenge on Biscuit for what she’s done? Or is there something else you’re not willing to admit?”

A pointed canine tooth worried Cheadle’s bottom lip before she answered, “What happened back then can’t happen again. You were there, you know what this kind of power is capable of.”

Once again, the smaller of the two shook his head. “There’s more to your reasoning than that. You can’t fool both of us, Cheadle.”

The Chairman leaned back in her seat, feeling strangely out of breath as she looked away. She closed her eyes again, exhaustion creeping up on her. Beans must have taken her subdued silence as a signal to continue.

“Isaac Netero was a great man and an even greater leader. But he had his flaws, just like all of us do. He hid the darker, more twisted side of himself very well; the part that was responsible for a lot of grief the Association still carries with it to this day. But I don’t need to explain something you already know . . . I suppose my point is, that while Netero was powerful in his own right, so are you.”

Cheadle finally looked up at those words.

“Don’t misunderstand me. Netero achieved some of the greatest victories the Association has ever known, but he also committed some of the worst tragedies in our history. And still, only a select few of us know what really happened during his time in office. As far as I have seen, you are far kinder than he could have ever been. You have done your best to be just and fair without harming anyone . . . The only exception to this was what preceded Project M5, of course. But despite that, I have nothing but admiration and respect for your leadership. Don’t feel like you have to do what he would have done in order to make the ‘right’ decision.”

The gravity of those words settled on Cheadle’s shoulders, resonating in her head. What Beans was saying . . . it struck a chord, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit it.

Was that really why she’d done this? Didn’t she care more about the safety of her community, of the world, rather than keeping up appearances? The air in the room became stifling and Cheadle’s pulse jumped up to her throat.

She was a good, dependable chairman, right? Her community could count on her to do the right thing . . . right?

Even if it meant killing two innocent children . . . to keep the Hunters Association as pristine and spotless as everyone thought it was.

“I appreciate your concern . . . but it’s too late to go back now.”

* * *

 

It was much darker than Kurapika had imagined it would be when they woke very early the next morning. It had to be at least two hours before sunrise, but he was still so jarringly awake. Last night was still so fresh in his mind . . . Failure was not an option at this point.

Bisky had taken care to burn all of the files she brought and to thoroughly destroy everyone’s cell phones. All that was left was to take a car into the heart of Yorknew, and then board one of Neon’s private airships. It was so much easier said than done.

The bonded pair had never seen Bisky so vigilant as she kept watch. She had the striking resemblance of a mother bear despite her size; putting herself before her cubs and making sure the way was clear.

Kurapika could feel Killua’s cautious and alert aura circling him before they even walked out the front door. But he was right to be so concerned. Kurapika could feel it too.

Something wasn’t right.

They reported their worries to Bisky, who quickly responded with, “Activate your Zetsu and stay inside. I’ll check the grounds.” As soon their aura was concealed, she was gone. Kurapika could sense her darting about the treetops, searching for anything and everything.

Killua’s voice entered his mind: _She can’t feel it like we can._

Kurapika felt another spike of _something_ in that moment. It was a faint and distant vibration, but it was still there. He sent an unsure glance at Killua.

What was it? Where was it coming from? How much longer would it be until it inevitably got to them?

* * *

 

Nothing. Nothing . . . How could she sense nothing?

Both of them felt something, and it was Bisky’s responsibility to find it. If the presence was hiding itself, she would have caught it by now. It obviously wasn’t hiding.

Were their senses really that delicate, to pick up on something so far away even Bisky was blind to it? Mizuken surely was too, but she couldn’t take him away from his post near the front door. She had to find this on her own somehow.

After she felt she had been amongst the tree tops for too long, she came back down to earth again, a few feet away from Mizuken. And that was when she felt it.

A nimble, powerful Nen was speeding towards them. It was at least twenty miles away, but that distance would soon be closed. Bisky stood taller, steadying her breath.

She felt Mizuken’s eyes on her as soon as the presence showed itself.

“The worst thing we could do right now is run.” Bisky determined. With the slightest of nods, she motioned for Mizuken to follow her.

The two Nen masters darted away from the house and the road, trying to distance themselves from their charges as much as possible. They stopped amidst a dense expanse of forest nestled by the mountainside. They could try to use the terrain to their advantage if all else failed.

Both of them held their ground, putting their auras on full display and waiting for the approaching force to come meet them.

 _I am the one you want. Come get me._ Bisky willed through her Nen, loud and clear through a flashy show of Ren. It made her the perfect flame to attract the moth who had suddenly attempted to change directions. Not enough to miss the Nen-users entirely, but enough that they were looking for something. Perhaps they doubted Bisky was worth going after . . . But she would make them second guess that thought.

And just as she expected, the presence was back on course and coming closer.

Both masters of Nen exchanged understanding glances, bracing themselves. They couldn’t allow the enemy to proceed any further.

They were face to face with their pursuer before another thought could be had. A heavy cloud of dust and debris followed their arrival, billowing and causing both Nen masters to shield their faces with their arms until it passed.

What they saw when the dust settled was not what they were expecting.

It was not a man that stood before them, but a beast.

It took the form of a jet-black panther, nearly seven feet in height. Its solid white eyes bore an unsettling contrast to its inky fur. A blind appearance belied the wall of Nen the creature carried with it. This was what Killua and Kurapika sensed long before Bisky could. There was no doubt.

Bisky tested those blind-looking eyes, shifting her weight on the loose gravel beneath her. The eyes of the beast moved in conjunction with its ears, in perfect sync in her direction. It stared at her with incredible focus, watching and waiting.

So it could see.

The creature emitted a growling purr through its muscular chest as the end of its thick tail flicked about. A quick glance at its paws revealed shining black claws that gently kneaded the earth before them. The action seemed to be more an instinctual tick than for any show of intimidation. It all seemed a bit too real.

But every ounce of Bisky’s intuition and experience was screaming at her: This is an illusion made from Nen. The real user is here somewhere. Don’t let them fool you.

Find them.

Gyo illuminated Bisky’s eyes. She felt Mizuken do the same, and together they searched. Carefully picking apart everything about the anomaly they faced . . .

Only to find nothing.

Bisky shook her head out of reflex, blinking to refresh her vision.

Nothing again.

What?? Again, she searched.

_Nothing._

The Nen creature appeared complete as it was. No strings attached . . .

But Bisky didn’t have the chance to appreciate such an innovative technique, or even wonder where the human counterpart to this manifestation was. The eyes of the panther glowed bright and its fanged jaw opened. A distinctly male voice flowed from its mouth without it ever moving:

_The children need to come in. After me, they’ll stop asking._

A not so subtle request to surrender before it came to blows. A request to hand her students over as if they were property that couldn’t think or feel . . . Disgust rolled through Bisky from the top of her head down, pulling on the corners of her mouth as it went. To take away their freedom, to use and study them like lab rats. To never let them feel truly human ever again . . . It was more than enough to make Bisky sick.

“Your fight is with me.” the small woman told the creature through gritted teeth, digging her heels into the dirt.

“Both of us.” Mizuken had corrected, bringing his own Nen to life around him.

The panther cocked its head, its ears twitching.

_If you insist._

It was impossible to tell who struck first. But Bisky dove in without thinking, vaguely feeling claws pierce through her dress and into her right thigh. She managed to toss the panther back through the trees before it could do any more damage. Mizuken had taken the initiative and sped past her, towards the beast who was no longer in sight. She came back to the ground and stood shakily, warm blood fresh on her skin.  
No matter what, they had to win.

* * *

 

Kurapika was perfectly still, kneeling in the hallway that led to the front door. He and Killua had never left the townhouse, as Biscuit instructed. Deep breaths . . . Kurapika had to remind himself to keep his aura quiet and separate from Killua’s. It became hard to manage when the intruder they had sensed so early on had finally confronted their Nen masters.

He did his best to read each signature, to gain as much knowledge as he could from what little time they had. The intruder’s Nen was just as powerful as Biscuit’s and Mizuken's. They were all on equal footing in that respect. But the intruder themselves felt strange . . . as if they weren’t truly present. As if their life energy was, but their physical body was elsewhere . . .

Kurapika had no choice but to trust in what he felt, no matter how unbelievable. He and Killua shared incredulous glances, then froze as soon as they felt another wave of Nen.

Biscuit put her aura on full display just before the presence reached her: _Come get me_ her energy screamed, and Kurapika felt his hands shake.

There was a brief lull when they all met, a moment that felt like a chance for negotiation. The three Nen-users faced each other in a dense patch of forest about a mile away from the townhouse. A small spike of energy Kurapika recognized as Gyo came from Biscuit’s aura. She must have also been at a loss to define what was right in front of her . . . But soon enough, the intruder’s aura flared menacingly. And in that time, Mizuken revealed his own power, providing complete support for Biscuit.

Whatever negotiation there might have been, it failed. And Biscuit was prepared to die. Kurapika knew the feeling of that resolve unlike any other.  
His heart lodged in his throat when three, distant Nen-shrouded forms clashed. He tried to hold his shaking breath in silence. Of course, Cheadle spared no expense. If no negotiations could be made, she meant to have them killed.

Another unsure look was shared between the two young men. Desperation and panic bled into Kurapika’s throat. Keep their Zetsu up, stay hidden and let the battle continue . . . or reveal themselves and fight alongside their masters?

Even without their direct line, Kurapika was still painfully aware of Killua’s mounting fear as the intruder struck Biscuit. She was bleeding . . .

They needed to make a choice now.

* * *

 

Bisky never had much appreciation for Mizuken’s Nen ability. But as her back hit the ground too roughly for her liking, she saw a flash of what appeared to be animated vines and thought not bad. The man had already launched himself through the trees and toward their enemy . . . His plant-based arsenal definitely gave him an edge in a natural battlefield.

She jumped up to follow him, careful not to place too much weight on her wounded right leg. The pain she could push aside, for now. She felt the panther deftly dodging all of Mizuken’s attempts to strike it. But he was skilled enough to keep the beast at bay, and roughly around the same spot Bisky had thrown it.

Her greatest wish was to fight right alongside the other Nen master, but there was one thing that stopped her. Something that made the bottom of her stomach plummet . . .

The creature was not dodging Mizuken. The man was dealing blow after blow, and the creature was absorbing them. Every place of impact simply shimmered before returning to normal. Suddenly having an openly bleeding wound made Bisky feel small and vulnerable.

It could strike them, but they could not strike back.

Sheer concentration alone was keeping Mizuken in the fight, his unwillingness to give his opponent an opening. Witnessing his desperation and focus made Bisky realize: one strike from a creature they virtually couldn’t touch would cost them dearly. Something pulled at the wounds in her thigh just as it donned on her.

Looking down at herself, she found an aura around the wounds. The panther was sapping her energy through the open flesh and using it against Mizuken. _Keep moving. Fight it._ Bisky started traveling the perimeter around where Mizuken continued to hold his own. She had to find the person who held the invisible strings of this beast. It was the only way to beat them.

The creature was expending virtually no energy, but the man facing it would wear eventually. She would wear eventually . . . But not yet.

* * *

 

_They’re going to die._

Killua’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t keep himself from shaking.

“We have to do something.” he heard himself say.

Kurapika’s responding look was both determined and frightened. He grasped one of Killua’s hands. The younger man wished he could hear Kurapika’s thoughts again, but soon enough he spoke.

“Don’t let go until I tell you.” Kurapika squeezed the hand in his, and for a moment they just looked at each other. The Kuruta seemed to be committing Killua’s face to memory with glassy hazel eyes. The finality of it all made him ill.

Killua responded by gripping the hand that held his even tighter.

They stood and walked together, Kurapika leading the way. Morning sunlight spilled through the open doorway, and all too soon they were running for their lives.

* * *

 

A massive flash of bright blue shook the forest, its energy overtaking the senses of all three Nen-users. Despite the waves of after shock ringing in her ears, Bisky’s head snapped in its direction. As soon as she turned, a black blur vanished into the trees. She lost the ability to breathe and her body acted on its own.

_No no no no no . . ._

The word drilled itself into her chest, mixing with the fear-slicked bile in her throat. Any pain in her body was nonexistent now as she tailed the creature. Faster she slipped between branches and cut past tree tops. She had to be faster. She had to stop it from reaching them.

The blue light faded as it traveled, but its unyielding force did not stop. It drew clouds toward it, pulling them out of the sky. They lowered, gathering around trees as a heavy blanket of fog. A separate atmosphere was created in mere moments, morphing the distant forest right before their eyes. The loosely-formed dome of mist rivaled the mountains surrounding it in size, and yet it deterred no one from breaching its ominous surface.

The three Nen-users passed through the wall of fog and into the dense, wet atmosphere. Bisky could hardly regain her bearings once it surrounded her. The bonded pair’s energy was _everywhere_. Even the creature was stunned, suddenly unable to find its targets. This En was otherworldly . . .

Every sense was dampened. Bisky could hardly see let alone find someone. But she couldn’t let it stop her from trying.

* * *

 

Kurapika felt more than he ever had in his life. Was this what it was to be omnipresent? Feeling, seeing, and knowing his surroundings; all of it flowing simultaneously in one line of consciousness. Biscuit, Mizuken, and the intruder they fought against were all amidst the fog, dazed and slowed for the time being. His and Killua’s spirits were literally this sphere of mist, born purely by accident. Any by standing Nen-user could look at it and call it “En”. But it was so much more than that. Kurapika wished he knew the words for it. If there were even words . . .

How did just recombining accomplish something like this?

There was no time think about the answer. Despite being such an impressive display, Kurapika knew it could only buy them a few seconds of reprieve at the most.

 _I’m going to let go._ Kurapika announced in Killua’s head.

The latter tightened his grip on the blond’s hand in response. _The hell you are._

Kurapika was gently pulled back.

_We can take down whatever’s out there together._

* * *

 

Mizuken took the chance while he had it; while the enemy was acquainting themselves with the power flowing around them. He had materialized a thick set of vines, sending them through the ground, up and under the giant black cat. The vines restrained the being before it could react.

Though it did struggle, and damn was it hard to hold.

He didn’t have to tell Biscuit to run. She moved back and away, into the mist without a sound. The panther outright snarled at this, threatening to break the vines constricting it. Hissing, growling and scratching with massive claws for long moments. Until it partially relaxed, and one huge white eye looked up at Mizuken.

_You’re only postponing your deaths, even if you succeed here._

Mizuken tightened his vines, despite knowing the Nen form didn’t need to breathe. He wasn’t going to let it think it could take advantage of him.

_They can’t be free as they are._

The Nen master made a point of using his vines to slam the creature into the ground. And yet, it continued talking.

_I’ll make it painless for them._

A fire erupted in Mizuken’s chest. “It’s a shame I won’t provide the same courtesy for you.”

The panther closed its eyes, its large mouth twisting downward.

_You’re all fools._

* * *

 

Killua and Kurapika knew the intruder was being held by Mizuken, physically restrained by his Nen ability. They knew Mizuken used that as a distraction to help Bisky escape. She was looking for them now that she was free, but her power was growing weaker with every step. Even still, that wasn’t what worried them the most.

The bonded pair sensed a fifth physical presence. They counted again and again, but still the number remained: five. Another intruder or something else entirely? It hadn’t moved since they first locked onto it, lingering on the very rim of the fog. It appeared to have very little life to it at all. A very slow heartbeat, even slower breathing. But it was still there.

 _That’s it._ Killua realized, every fiber of him poised and focused. Kurapika gave him a confused sideways glance.  _It’s the human counterpart to the Nen form. They somehow manifested their consciousness into Nen, making their body nearly useless. But it has to be nearby, to keep a connection._

Kurapika wanted so badly to say that was downright crazy. But they had no other option . . . _It will be too obvious if we go after them together. Let’s separate and close in from opposite sides._

All it took was an understanding nod from Killua and they broke away from each other, racing silently through misty woods towards their new target.

* * *

 

Two souls intertwined all around Bisky, joined in a way she could barely fathom. They had no secrets from each other, she could feel it in this atmosphere. Such intimate power should have been impossible. But it was so palpable, as heavy and real as the mist that hung in the air. As she bounded over branches and slid past rough forest terrain, Bisky initially hoped to use this atmosphere to find her boys. But that was the sheer beauty of it.

They owned this space, everything encapsulated in this vast bubble of fog was theirs. They could surely sense her every move, feel her exact location. But she had no chance of finding them.

Oh, what a gift this was. Such a powerful and frightening thing.

Catching a limb of one of the tallest trees she passed, Bisky used its height to hopefully give her a better idea of where she was. The fog was suffocating enough without the bonded souls in it. Just as she thought she was getting a handle on where she was, she spotted two barely noticeable rifts in the mist. She couldn’t tell who they were, and that was exactly what gave them away. Dropping off the branch, she quietly followed them.

* * *

 

Mizuken sensed a shift in the dense atmosphere. One that was enough to set the panther off. The creature fought with earth and vine alike, renewing its struggle with desperation. The Nen master had to place all his concentration into keeping it at bay. Through its twisting and writhing, it got its fangs around a vine, easily snapping it and making Mizuken’s Nen weaken. A back leg got loose just as another weak spot was found, and Mizuken reinforced the hold that remained. Or he had tried.

His enemy had breached the Nen vines, reducing them to ribbons of translucent life energy. The panther leaped past Mizuken in such a hurry, gouging his shoulder in the process of its escape.

The man did not let himself react to the wound, despite feeling the creature’s Nen burying itself into him. It drew from him now as well, just as it did Biscuit. But he wouldn’t let it stop him.

He would follow this thing and finish what they had all started.

* * *

 

Killua felt the Nen form break free from Mizuken’s hold, injuring him as it raced for the fifth form.

Mizuken was tailing the Nen form in no time, just as Killua felt Bisky take notice of himself and Kurapika. All of them were heading towards the same goal, no doubt for different reasons . . . This had the potential to get risky extremely quickly.

But they couldn’t stop now. Their plan was already attracting attention.

Killua felt the reassuring presence of Kurapika all around him and pushed forward. They had been picking up speed side by side, staying a few feet apart. Surprisingly enough, Kurapika was more than capable of keeping up with Killua. A look from Kurapika was the cue for them to separate.

Killua nearly lost the pace he’d been keeping when he saw the blond’s eyes. What he had expected to be glowing red was a shocking bright blue. He almost hoped he was seeing things, but didn’t think on it for long. He couldn’t afford to lose focus.

They were nearly in range of their target.

* * *

 

Bisky saw four interruptions slicing through the mist. All of them were heading towards nearly the same location, on the very outer rim of this dome of fog. For what reason, she didn’t know. But her students knew much better than her. They must have sensed something she couldn’t. Either that or the blood loss from her wound was starting to affect her.

For now, she would place the energy she had left into keeping the panther away from them. It was moving with such fervor now, with more urgency than before . . .

Could it be they found the source of the illusion?

Let them led the way, and it would become clear soon enough.

* * *

 

Killua was hardly moving on his own anymore. His eyes were nearly unseeing. And yet he was so damn awake. So aware. Not using his own senses but experiencing them through his extended aura. It was a level of existence he’d never encountered before.

He felt the body, hiding in what was the most inconspicuous corner. Beneath exposed tree roots enveloping the rocky mountainside.

He also felt Kurapika, staying true to their plan and broadly sweeping around to put himself at a perfect opposite angle. The Nen illusion was not far behind, chasing them in sheer panic. Then came Mizuken, right on the creature’s trail. And last was Bisky, her watchful eye keeping track of everything.

It was almost over. Only a few more agonizingly short seconds.

Killua elongated his stride, outright sprinting when he saw a body concealed by black robes. He skidded to a stop a few feet beyond it, circling it and leaving an arch of dust. He looked to his left to see Kurapika in sync with him, coming to a stop. Chains launched from the Kuruta’s right hand, speeding toward the nearly lifeless robed body. Simultaneously, Killua summoned all of the electricity he had, ready to deliver the final blow as soon as the chains made contact.

But it all came to a screeching, sickening halt.

The Nen form, a black panther, charged its way through the bushes with a startling roar. The giant being sprung toward them, enormous fangs suddenly too close. The bonded pair could barely hear past the unified heartbeats pounding in their temples. There was no time left to react.

A flash of pink skirts and long blonde hair forced itself into what little space was left. It threw itself in front of Killua and Kurapika. It readily leaned into the dark, fanged jaw.

The sound of bones snapping echoed in the fog.

Bisky hung from the creature’s clenched teeth. Bright red soaked through her dress. The pungent scent of fleeting mortality tainted the fog. All that remained was the fading warmth of her body . . .

As quickly as it stopped, everything erupted back into motion.

The fog was ripped from the forest, being pushed towards the skies by malevolent gusts of wind. Old, scaled bark of towering trees creaked and snapped under the pressure. The newly-formed clouds began swirling violently overhead. Rain surged toward the ground in fast and heavy cascades, lightening and thunder instantly following. Eroding earth, setting dry brush ablaze . . . The wind adopted a voice, howling as it spread the flames across the forest floor.

Its deafening scream was the last thing the panther would ever hear.


	23. Chapter 23

It had been well over twenty-four hours, with no word from the panther.

Cheadle stared down at the plain cell phone that lay idle in the center of her desk. The phone that was to be their method of contact once everything was put to rest.  
The Chairman’s blood ran like ice in her veins the longer she waited. The ticking of the clock on the far wall in her silent office provoked yet another impending migraine.

She reached out to the phone without thinking, selecting the only contact it had and holding it to her ear.

A long, droning noise answered.

There came that feeling of suffocation again, of being unable to breathe the very air around her. A hand found its way to Cheadle’s mouth. Her suddenly too wet eyes stung with a fear she hadn’t felt in years . . .

It was far too late to go back now.

* * *

 

Mizuken jolted upright, his first conscious thought no more than a blurry feeling of panic. There was sound and motion all around him, hands on his arms guiding him to lay back down, a feeling of torn skin on his shoulder covered by bandages . . . Slowly, individual voices filtered brokenly into his mind.

 _“Miss!_ . _. . One of . . . is awake.”_

The bright lights of what looked to be an examination room nearly blinded him. But as soon as Mizuken’s eyes adjusted, he saw a cerulean-haired woman dressed in a navy suit. He immediately recognized her as Neon Nostrade. The young mafia boss sat by the Nen master’s bedside, her dark makeup unable to hide her lack of sleep.

“Neon . . . where are we? Where are the others?” Mizuken’s dry throat strained to speak.

“Relax, Izunavi*.” Neon replied gently. “We’re at Yorknew’s general hospital. And everyone is here; you’re just the first to wake up.”

After taking deep breaths to regain control of his pulse, Mizuken asked, “How did you know where to find us?”

Neon’s reassuring expression faded as she attempted to explain. “It had been more than an hour past the time Kurapika said you would all come to take the airship.” She wrung her hands unconsciously. “And this might sound crazy but . . . I felt him in the storm. I don’t know how or why, but I just did.”

Ignoring the soreness in his bandaged shoulder, Mizuken carefully leaned forward. “How are they?”

“Kurapika and Killua are stable. All they really need now are fluids and rest.” Neon started carefully. “And the woman, Biscuit Krueger I believe we identified her as. She . . .”

A pregnant pause.

“She was taken into intensive care immediately.” Neon hesitated as she continued. “They managed to stop her bleeding. And thank goodness her head was unharmed. That was really what saved her.”

 _What about the rest of her?_ Mizuken wanted so badly to ask, but he stayed silent. Waiting for Neon to continue.

It was disheartening to see Neon mentally brace herself, to know she had more to say. “Her spine was damaged in several places by puncture wounds. For now, she is stable . . . but she might never walk again.”

The Nen master barely restrained himself from holding his head in his hands.

“My medical team did everything they could, I can promise you that.” Neon assured. “If you like, I can take you to see her.”

* * *

 

  _“. . . what could possibly be the worst storm Yorknew has seen in years. It appeared seemingly out of nowhere, tearing through the western mountainside and bringing a raging brush fire along with it. The nearby mountain communities have already been evacuated, and local firefighters are continuing efforts to keep the flames from spreading further. However, the same cannot be said for the storm. Meteorologists predict it could gain momentum as it travels further north, possibly towards the outer suburbs of the city. Residents in those areas have been issued a warning of potential evacuation but are on standby for the time being . . .”_

Miziastom could not stop the grimace that pulled at his face, nor the disappointment that bled through him. Yorknew City’s news anchors kept commenting on the “odd weather” in the mountains, giving their standard announcements about staying inside and preparing for potential emergencies. They replayed devastating storm footage, pointing out minute details like they could clue people in on what was happening. They were so calm, unaware of the real level of danger that could strike at any moment. Unaware of the frantic, enraged Nen that controlled the wind, rain, and lightening.

The city would not protect them.

“Why would she do this?” Miziastom asked himself more than anyone else, his brow furrowing. His glare stared back up at him in the polished wood of the conference table. “She had to have known this would happen, and she did it anyway.”

“We all make mistakes, Mizai.”

The Ox’s interlocked hands tensed further. “Don’t excuse her. She blindly lashed out without knowing anything about them.”

“She made what she thought was the right decision.”

“That,” Mizaistom pointed to the replaying footage of the storm. “is them defending themselves. What will we do when she sends someone else?”

Beans rose from his seat, his chair scraping the floor rather roughly. Miziastom didn’t bother to meet his frustrated look. “Getting angry with her is only going to divide the Zodiacs further. Calm down first, and speak with her. Do not yell, but use reason.”

Mizaistom felt his head shake slowly, an instinctual response. He honestly didn’t know what to say for a long while.

“I’ll speak with her one more time.” the Zodiac determined. “But this is her last chance, before I take matters into my own hands.”

* * *

 

It was surreal for Mizuken to see Biscuit hidden by bandages, confined to a hospital bed and hooked to all kinds of monitors. He couldn’t imagine what shape her legs were in. He found his eyes wandering to the rest of her body hidden beneath white sheets, and hoping the doctors would end up being wrong. Even Biscuit’s hair was now a short blonde bob, ironically looking much like Neon’s. Her long hair was embedded in her injuries and had to be removed, Neon had said . . .

Currently, Mizuken was outside the entrance to Yorknew’s general hospital, taking long drags of what was probably his second cigarette. Or third. He couldn’t be bothered to count.

Neon’s doctors had insisted that Mizuken focus on resting as well, but it just wasn’t possible. He couldn’t put what happened out of his mind. The Chairman of the Hunters’ Association sent someone to kill them, and she nearly succeeded. What could they possibly do to prepare for the next attack?  
Mizuken watched the sky grow even darker as he continued to smoke in silence. Hopefully the storm would not breach the city limits, but it was beginning to look doubtful . . . It would be in their best interests to escape Yorknew as soon as possible.

And the Nen master owed his students an explanation of what Biscuit told him not even twelve hours before they were attacked.

The automatic glass doors on Mizuken’s left opened, and the clicking sound of high heels approached him.

“They’re awake.” Neon’s voice was at the Nen master’s side. “They asked me to come get you.”

* * *

 

Killua and Kurapika were exhausted. Mizuken knew that before he even stepped into their hospital room. Their bond was stronger than he’d ever felt it, but its energy was being worn dangerously thin. As soon as he opened the heavy metal door, a strange sight met him.

The two young men were sitting up in separate beds, each with their own IV lines taped to their arms. They appeared as though they hadn’t slept in weeks, but Mizuken expected this. He did not expect their eyes to be the same glowing blue he witnessed just this morning.

It was not as powerful of a color as it had been. Their irises faded and even flickered occasionally, adding to their tired appearance.

Surely when he felt his teacher had stared enough, Kurapika responded to his puzzled look.

“It’s the storm.” the older of the pair explained.

Killua added, “It started when we were heading toward the source of the Nen form. Kurapika was able to keep up with me and then some; usually I have to slow down for him. And then I noticed his eyes.”

Kurapika picked up where Killua left off. “Killua’s eyes normally glow to some degree whenever he uses his abilities, so I thought nothing of seeing his change. The best guess we have is that I borrowed his ability to channel electricity.”

“Or it could be part of your skill set now. It’s not completely unthinkable.” Mizuken suggested, causing the two younger men to exchange uncertain looks.

“Anyway,” the younger of the pair said, “we wanted to talk to you about leaving the city tonight.”

Kurapika was right in step with his partner. “We’ve already lost a day. We can’t afford to stay here any longer.”

The looks on their faces were so resolute. It made a terrible feeling rise in Mizuken’s stomach.

“Neon will take care of Biscuit.” Kurapika suddenly supplied. “She’ll be safe here.”

They already knew. Of course, they must have felt it before they were told anything.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok to travel?”

Killua’s flickering blue eyes meet Mizuken’s. “We don’t have a choice.”

All the Nen master could do was let out a sigh. “Before we leave, there are some things both of you need to know. Things Biscuit insisted on keeping from you.”

Silence and undivided attention responded. Better late than never, and there was no perfect time to deliver bad news . . . Mizuken pushed himself to keep talking.

“She had originally planned to use your bond as a way to persuade the Chairman to continue the Association’s research on connections between Nen-users. The contact she sent letters to and met with is M, the main subject in that research. M has been a prisoner of the Association for the past four years, and she is the only survivor of the first bond. The first bond was hunted down and eliminated by the Zodiacs because they were deemed too dangerous to be allowed to live. Before they could kill M, she struck a deal with them. They spared her life in exchange for information, and that was what started Project M5. So even if you struck the same deal, you would be the Association’s prisoners for the rest of your lives.”

It pained Mizuken to see their reaction. They didn’t even look hurt . . . just tired. Kurapika even rubbed at his eyes with a hand before looking back up.

“Did Biscuit tell you all of this?” His voice was far too small.

“Some of it. The rest I found last night on a few half-burnt documents.” Mizuken admitted. “You deserved to know the truth, before this is over.”

“Will it ever really be over?” Killua began, almost speaking to himself more than Mizuken. “Even if we forget everything, it won’t-”

He was stopped by Kurapika, with a gentle hand on his arm and slow shake of his head. Killua looked back at him and sighed. The blond then turned to Mizuken.

“We’re going to change and then we’ll meet you on the airship.” 

* * *

 

What a pleasant surprise.

At least, that was how Hisoka wanted to interpret this. The magician was never one for television, much less news broadcasts, but they proved useful from time to time . . . Especially now.

Watching Killua's and Kurapika’s combined energy rip everything apart was enough to make his knees weak. The smoke, heavy rain, blackened trees . . . the wind that seemed to pull the whole sky along with it. What clever boys, making nature itself do their bidding in such a primal display of anger and pain.

Hisoka chuckled under his breath at the clumsy people in their yellow plastic suits that thought they knew what they were up against. Oh, if only they knew. They would be running for their insignificant lives.

The magician’s breathing quickened as a sudden gust shook the flimsy helicopter camera, and then rocked the whole contraption after that. Yes, this visceral, immersive energy was positively nostalgic . . .

 _Hear our voice. Feel our pain._ It screamed with every crack of lightning, every surge of the breathtaking storm that threatened to blow even the fire engines over. That was when the yellow plastic suits retreated, scrambling through mud to distance themselves. They fled to their vehicles and Hisoka could only close his eyes in longing.

 _I hear you. I feel you_ . . . He yearned to answer the raw, unyielding power shaking the atmosphere. To experience such an intimate rage firsthand. To enjoy letting the storm take him apart before snuffing it out. Or maybe he couldn’t bend it to his will, and it would overtake him. Ah, how enticing . . .

It was such a shame he’d missed them.

Despite the storm’s power, a trained eye could see its Nen gradually losing momentum. Such a pity that Hisoka couldn’t have answered their cries as soon as the storm erupted into being. If only he could have been there . . .

Now now, have patience.

They were not fully joined. Not yet able to truly unleash themselves upon the world. Even Hisoka couldn’t guess the full extent of their abilities. But they were already capable of so much, his impatience would argue. Would it hurt to have a taste? . . . All this excitement made him weak with anticipation. He had to watch himself.

One day they would be ready, and he would have them both. But not now, not yet.

They needed just a bit more guidance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*I decided to combine the 2011 anime with the manga, so in this universe Kurapika’s Nen master’s full name is now Izunavi Mizuken. I think it has a decent ring to it.)
> 
> I become a little unsettled with myself when I realize Hisoka was the easiest character for me to write in this chapter. His point of view is disturbingly natural to me. Which says nothing about me, nothing at all . . . But I do have good news. Chapter 24 should be on the way shortly. For some odd reason, I insisted on working on both 23 and 24 at the same time. But 24 doesn’t quite have all the kinks worked out just yet, so it will take possibly another week or two.
> 
> And another subject I would like to touch on . . . an alarming number of you have told me this is your favorite fan fiction???
> 
> Oh my. What an absolute honor. All I can do is marvel at that. Especially after I had been gone for so long. And I probably sound like a broken record thanking you every chapter. I wish the English language wasn’t so restrictive where gratitude is concerned. There must be words out there with deeper meaning . . . but until I find them, I’ll have to settle with thank you.
> 
> I am so grateful to continue this journey. Just knowing you’re there with me makes all the difference.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for making it this far with me up until this point!
> 
> I was not planning on placing notes before and after this chapter, but this message here has been placed after the original upload, and for what I believe is a good reason.
> 
> Come next month, this story will have been a part of my life for three years. It's only been on the internet for almost two now, but it has been planned and sculpted long before that. I appreciate every single one of you who has taken the time to read it and stick with me. It speaks volumes for how much you care. Through all of my shortcomings, many of you have stayed and supported me, and that is absolutely wonderful. But with this relationship comes a certain kind of mutual respect I believe we should be able to share between us. If you will be honest with me about how you feel, then in return I need to come out and be honest with you.
> 
> I have put an unmeasureable amount of time, research, and love into this. I have a plan that I am not deviating from. I sincerely apologize for those of you who had expected this writing to take a different path. I know that authors on these fanfiction sites are very specific with their tags and how they label what happens in their work. But I choose not to abide by labelling/tagging that is so specific it defeats the purpose of reading the work. I honestly feel that those types of categorizations spoil stories, making me wonder why I would choose to read something that has already been explained to me in the multitude of tags beneath the title. Or even in the summary, in some cases. But at any rate, I do not abide by this fanfiction culture, and that can be frustrating for some. Which I completely understand: there are far more characters appearing in this work than just Killua and Kurapika. But this brings me to another point.
> 
> This work is modeled after the 2011 show (and Togashi's writing style in general, I suppose I can say). It has an overarching story with a multitude of characters who develop themselves and the world around them, and everything eventually ties together. Because of the impact Togashi's work has had on my life, I dedicated a lot of time to not only paying homage to his writing style (which I'm not sure I can even come close to, but I have tried), but also I included my own ideas for what the Hunter x Hunter universe could have been. Not that I disagree with how he presents it. But he sparks a lot of creativity in me, and I wanted to bring forward the best example I could of how much he has influenced me.
> 
> I do realize, that for those of you who primarily came here for the pairing Killua/Kurapika, this overarching plotline must be getting in the way of your point for being here. But at the same time, everything I do in my writing, I do for a reason. So nothing about what I have planned for this work will change. I will however, compromise with a few new tags that will hopefully warn future readers that come into this work with certain expectations.
> 
> Once again, I apologize if I have not met any hopes you had for this writing. I realize not everyone in the world will agree with everyone, and I cannot force you to like or appreicate what I have written. But even still, I am grateful for all the time you have spent with these words of mine. Our time with each other is precious and irreplacable. And more than anything else, thank you for your continued presence.

Gon jolted awake in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, swearing he felt an explosion. He was almost convinced it had been a nightmare, but the staggered shockwaves in the forest around him immediately proved him wrong.

As if out of reflex, his sleep-addled mind screamed it had something to do with Killua.

But once the more rational part of him stirred, he couldn’t believe it. How could an eruption of Nen on such a massive scale have anything to do with Killua, or any single person for that matter? It didn’t even feel like him . . . And it was so far away, surely on another continent. How could this aura be felt from such an incredible distance?

As Gon left his sleeping bag, he saw Ging doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

“You felt that too?” Ging had asked. When Gon nodded, the older Hunter closed his eyes for a moment to focus. “It’s familiar, somehow . . .”

Gon blinked, unsure of where he could have felt that particular kind of resonance before. He would absolutely remember feeling something so specific . . . but he came up empty, with nothing to compare it with.

Ging however, was still poised and concentrating. Gon could feel him studying the ripples of energy that passed through them. It made their surroundings vibrate; down to every leaf and blade of grass the world was forcibly shaken.

Despite this display, Gon felt no need to fear the nearly overpowered aura. It was . . . defensive? Frightened? The sensation was hard to describe . . . but Gon couldn’t help but feel like this power was only dangerous because it had to be, like it was trying to protect something.

What could have happened to cause this?

Soon enough, the sound of shifting dirt at Gon’s side announced Ging getting to his feet. When Gon turned to face him, there was a confident and unsurprised look in his eyes. “Well, that explains a lot.” he muttered to himself. And as if it wasn’t still pitch black, he started packing up their campsite. All Gon could do was watch him incredulously.

The younger Hunter never pretended to understand this man.

A few weeks ago, when Gon had no more to go off of than a text, when he met Ging atop some distant, obscure mountain, there were plenty of unanswered questions. Not that Gon considered the mystery a bad thing. But he had been more curious than anything else; why was Ging here, and why now?

It had taken some serious angling and patience that day, but eventually Gon wheedled an answer out of the evasive old Hunter.

_“You’ll be part of the expedition team. Didn’t your Nen master tell you? Or maybe I forgot to mention it . . .”_

_“For what?”_

_“The Dark Continent. All we need are a few more recruits and secure funding, and we’ll be set.”_

The part about Bisky slightly blindsided Gon. So that was why she came out of nowhere and wanted to train him again. Not that he wasn’t grateful to see her . . . it must have been a kind of refresher course before the real mission began. The whole thing had felt a bit unreal, but a burning curiosity took hold. Gon wanted, maybe even needed, to know where this could possibly go.

It was still funny, how Ging told him he’d be part of the team instead of just asking. Gon would have agreed either way, but . . . just the thought that this whole time he was deemed worthwhile enough to be on the team. By the man he never really thought he’d catch up to. It set his head spinning and his heart racing.  
What could the Dark Continent possibly be like? The one place even Ging had yet to explore. Sure, Gon heard stories that were mostly based of off rumors, but just the thought of getting to experience such a distant and foreign land . . . It kept Gon awake at night, the idea thrumming in his brain and exciting him more then he thought possible. It was so distracting.

So much that he’d found himself forgetting things. And people.

Like Killua.

Guilt would always claw its way through Gon’s chest when he found himself forgetting his first best friend. Again.

There was no excuse for it.

He’d made time to call Killua a while ago, only with the intent to catch up with him. He thought he hid his worry well enough, and Killua sounded really happy to hear from him. They had been talking so easily, sharing stories and being glad to hear the other’s voice. Until Killua stopped talking right in the middle of a sentence. The line had gone absolutely silent.

_“Killua? Is everything ok? . . . Killua?”_

_“. . . It was really great hearing from you, but I have something I need to take care of.”_

_“ . . . I understand. Take care, Killua. I hope everything’s ok.”_

_“Yeah, you too. See you later.”_

He sounded so sad all of a sudden. Gon wished he could’ve been there, even though Killua most likely wouldn’t want him to be. It’d be nice if Killua would stop pushing him away . . .

“Come on, Gon. We’re already late as it is. The quicker we get this done, the better.” Ging’s voice snapped Gon out of his thoughts, and he mechanically began packing as well.

Ging hadn’t even explained where they were going . . . or what they were about to get themselves into.

* * *

 

The Ox of the Zodiacs reminded himself to stay calm as he briskly walked to Cheadle's office. Yes, he was still angry. But no, he wouldn’t take it out on Cheadle. He couldn’t. He had to remember what Beans said: _“She made what she thought was the right decision . . . Getting angry with her is only going to divide the Zodiacs further.”_

Yes, Cheadle was under pressure. But it didn’t change the mess she caused. It didn’t change that one of their top agents was now dead, because of an impossible order he was given. His unwavering loyalty was surely wasted, and now Mizaistom had to restore order before any other good Hunters were sacrificed . . .

“Can we talk?” he asked, standing in the doorway of Cheadle’s office for a moment before softly closing the door behind him.

Cheadle slumped heavily in her chair, her eyes closed with her head tilted back. She faced away from the large screen on the wall that displayed the same, albeit muted, news report Mizaistom had seen earlier.

Eventually the Dog of the Zodiacs stirred. She didn’t open her eyes but she did speak. “What do you want?”

“Is all of this really necessary?” Mizaistom started off gingerly. “The longer this goes on, the bigger it gets and the more people will take notice. It will only be a matter of time before the other world leaders find out.”

Silence. A very long, deliberate stream of silence. If Mizaistom didn’t know any better, Cheadle appeared to be sleeping in her chair.

Trying to hide his irritation, he continued, “I think you’re forgetting that we’re all on the same side: we don’t want this situation to escalate any further. So the rest of the Zodiacs and I agree it would be in our best interest to try talking to them.”

Cheadle remained unresponsive, still as stone. It was unsettling and aggravating at the same time. It reminded Mizaistom of how Cheadle had been during the last incident . . . but she was their leader. She couldn’t afford to hide behind her desk and unfeasibly send good people off to their deaths. None of them could.

“Please see reason, and call off the next attack.”

Cheadle finally opened her dark-ringed eyes. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then as Vice-Chairman, I have no choice but to ask you to step down.”

“I’ll step down when this ends.”

The Ox wasted no time in leaving the office. Their Chairman, it seemed, was beyond negotiating.

* * *

 

The entire act of departing Yorknew passed in a numbing blur. It happened so quickly that Killua and Kurapika were nearly unaware of what was happening. One moment they had changed clothes, the next they were aboard one of Neon’s sleek, more agile airships. It was smaller than average which served many advantages: it was faster, used less fuel, and was easier to hide in the clouds. Of course Neon had insisted on sending pilots, who would no doubt have a better understanding of the mechanism. They also had instructions to return the ship to her, so there would be no abandoned crafts attracting attention.

The one thing Kurapika remembered so vividly before they left was Neon’s questioning expression. Her worried yet respectful demeanor that just ate away at him. He promised her an explanation, after everything was said and done. He just wouldn’t be the one to give it to her.

A quiet night enveloped the airship soon after it took to the sky. Mizuken had retired to one of the rooms near the back of the ship, leaving the bonded pair to their own devices. The atmosphere on the craft was dark and calm, the windows framing countless stars while the lowest of lighting defined rounded walls. It should have been the perfect setting to let their guards down . . . and yet sleep was particularly elusive, neither of them able to relax. Perhaps the quiet itself was the issue.

It was the exact opposite of what their lives had become since this started. It felt foreign, bringing a nagging sense of paranoia to the backs of their minds . . . Could they be followed? Were they already being followed? Now that they had to leave Bisky behind, was she a liability? Had they let Neon get too involved? Could she be in danger as a result? What did Kurapika using Killua’s lightning really mean? How in control of their abilities could they remain until they reached Kakin?

So many uncertainties, and not enough answers to make up for them.

The bonded pair sat on one of the sofas in the ship’s lounge, purposefully choosing a spot closest to a wall. The gentle hum of the craft’s inner workings was background noise to an oddly comfortable lull between them. Killua was grateful they could share the stillness together without having to defend or explain themselves.

In the midst of the quiet, he felt worry spike within his partner. He turned to find a focused hazel gaze on him and a thin hand on his chest, directly over his heart. Neither spoke as the blond concentrated, and then quickly relaxed.

“Thank the gods . . .” Kurapika murmured to himself. When Killua’s curiosity surfaced, he explained, “Because I can apparently tap into your abilities, I thought you might have mine. I would never wish that on you.”

Killua felt a small smile curving his lips, for the first time in a very long while. “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough.” Kurapika chided. He meant to remove his hand from the younger male’s chest, only to find Killua holding it there.

Kurapika stared at the hand that covered his, paying far too much attention to the heart that beat strongly beneath them both.

 _Has my lightning ever hurt you?_ Killua asked, his voice low and gentle in Kurapika’s head.

_No. Never._

_Good._ Killua squeezed the hand he held to himself. _I can bear it, but you might not be able to. If anything happened to you, I . . ._

The younger male’s hands slipped down Kurapika’s arms and up to his shoulders, clinging to him there. Killua’s aura gathered thickly around the two of them, fervent and overwhelming. He stared at the older male so intensely for a split-second, before his expression softened into something nearly forlorn. The look in those clear blue eyes wrenched at Kurapika’s heart.

Despite still feeling Killua’s racing heart beneath his hand, Kurapika put together a conscious thought. _Promise me something._

_Anything._

_Even if you find you have access to them, never use my chains. You will end up like me._

It was then that one of Killua’s hands left Kurapika’s shoulder, slowly making its way to the blond’s heart. Killua didn’t have to look very hard to find Nen in the form of chains coiled about the fluttering organ. The end of the chain was tipped with a small, ornate blade that simply sat, unneeded. Killua had a sudden urge to just take the chain out and free his partner, even though he knew it wasn’t possible.

 _I won’t. I promise._ Killua’s words, though hopeful by design, were hollow at best. They both knew very well that Kurapika had taken on Killua’s abilities without any knowledge of how or why. The opposite could occur just as easily.

The pair leaned heavily into one another, still feeling relief from the physical contact. It rushed through their blood, placating their recently overused auras. Eventually, their breathing synchronized; even their pulses beat as one. It was one of the most comforting sensations either had experienced in months. It served to help them forget, if only for short while.

When Killua finally opened his eyes, they came to rest on an intricate, dangling ruby earring. The jewelry, he noticed, was nearly cloaked by blond hair that had clearly grown to brush slender shoulders.

“You need a haircut.” Killua gently teased, taking to one side of Kurapika’s head and nuzzling him.

“So do you.” Came a soft retort as the blond draped his arms over his partner’s shoulders. Killua felt a few almost playful tugs on the back of his own longer hair as a soft chuckle vibrated in Kurapika’s chest.

They remained close for the rest of the night, finding solace in each other until sleep finally came.

* * *

 

Botobai’s home was humble and ordinary; a plain looking cottage nestled in a quiet, green valley far away from all forms of modernization. Mizaistom couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited this place. It had the same weathered stone walls, faded gable roof, and stocky chimney, grasped by the same vines that climbed towards the sun. It really hadn’t changed . . .

The front door opened just as Mizaistom was about to knock, and the Ox couldn’t believe what he saw.

The once tall, proud, and muscular Dragon was thin, bony, and riddled with dark burn-like scars. His now oversized red and black jacket hung from him, his brittle hands nearly covered by too-long sleeves. His back was hunched, barely able to support what little weight was left on him. His Nen had gaping holes torn into it, as if a giant parasite had chewed its way through his life energy.

The sight was made even more morbid when Mizaistom noticed the blinking red light on a metal collar loosely fashioned around Botobai’s neck: the symbol of his house arrest.

“Did Cheadle do this to you?” Mizaistom couldn’t stop himself from asking.

Botobai’s weathered features almost looked confused for a moment before he laughed. It was a graveled and wheezy sound, and his speaking voice was just as worn. “No, my friend. It was all simply a product of time. Shall we?”

The Dragon had motioned toward the rest of his home and the Ox followed him inside.

Once both were seated in modest armchairs in a warmly-lit living room, Botobai spoke once more. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer in the way of amenities.” the older Zodiac had began, but Mizaistom rose his hand in decline.

“I apologize for imposing on you.” the younger man replied. “I originally came to release you from your arrest . . .”

“But?” Botobai instantly suppled, a humored grin sneaking onto his leathery mouth.

“. . . What happened to you?”

The withered Dragon sunk into the plush cushions of his chair, staring out a nearby window. “Cheadle has done no wrong to me. This is a just punishment.”

Mizaistom only responded with a questioning glance.

“You remember our friend M, I’m sure.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I was celebrated as invincible the day she attempted escape.”

Mizaistom remembered stories of Botobai’s selfless bravery. He had single-handedly saved their world by coming into direct contact with M’s poisonous aura. He had returned her to the prison grounds, without so much as a scratch. Despite the fact that hundreds of M’s guards were plagued with the radiative effects of her Nen, and very actively dying. That was why Botobai was made the warden of her prison, because of his miraculous ability to withstand her. He could safely commute from the prison to the outside world and back again.

A cough-like chuckle came from the older Zodiac. “If only that were the whole truth.”

Mizaistom made many terrifying parallels in that moment.

“M is killing you. Just like all the other guards . . .”

Botobai remained calm, even in the face of his colleague’s shock. “This curse isn’t by her own design, I couldn’t possibly blame her.”

“You’ve been dealing with this for four years. How has it not spread?” Words fell form Mizaistom’s mouth as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him.

“I took every precaution to see that it wouldn’t. The form you saw daily was part of that.” Another weak smile. “But I knew one day I would inevitably fail, and she would take over. I prolonged that day as much as possible.”

A glamour. How could Mizaistom have missed it, after all this time? “Cheadle must know this is happening to you now. Why would she have confined you otherwise . . .”

Although Mizaistom seemed to be reasoning with himself, Botobai affirmed. “Not so much arrest as it is quarantine. She believes me contagious despite all these years.”

“I’m assuming you know what she’s done now?” Urgency bubbled in Mizaistom as the words left him.

Botobai’s arrest thankfully did not mean he was barred from public information. He gave a solemn nod. “I didn’t expect her to strike without just cause. I hope she’s learned from this?”

Much to his friend’s dismay, Mizaistom shook his head. “She’s planning to attack them again. I was hoping you could help me reason with her, but I was unaware of your . . . condition.”

“I’m grateful you still think me that capable.” Botobai smiled, a bittersweet gesture. “But my presence would only serve to push her further down this violent path she’s chosen. To her, I am only proof of how dangerous they could become.”

Mizaistom pulled at a spotted sleeve of his black and white coat, staring at the floor in deep concentration. “No one has been able to talk her out of this. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“The first bond was twisted and gnarled beyond any hope of redemption. It ate itself to death.” the older Zodiac reminded. “If our Chairman persists, she will be consumed as well.”

Mizaistom left Botobai’s home that night with an unsettling feeling. As if their entire world was being uprooted.

* * *

 

Gon didn’t know the Hunter’s Association even had waiting rooms. But here he and Ging were, waiting for a chance to speak with the Chairman.

 _“Cheadle has not been easy to talk to lately, and that aura we felt before has something to do with it. Now we have the leverage we need to get her to listen.”_ Ging had reasoned on their way to Headquarters.

He had a strategy: send Gon in first to talk to Cheadle, and if that didn’t work, Ging would introduce their so-called “leverage”. That he still didn’t really bother explaining . . .

Gon swallowed. Prior to last night’s coincidence, he and Ging had exhausted all their other options for funding the expedition, and having dozens of smaller sponsors would only become a liability. This was their last chance to contract a single source. He hoped this would go well . . .

Gon was not ready for the moment he was called back to the double doors of the Chairman’s office. Taking one last deep breath, he reached out and knocked on the office doors. They seemed to open on their own, revealing a rather dimly lit space with heavily tinted windows, a large desk, and black shelves lining white walls.

Cheadle Yorkshire was leaning on the front of her desk, her head tipped down.

“Excuse me, Ms. Cheadle-” What Gon felt in that room suddenly made him forget what he was going to say.

Ging was right: the Chairman was an absolute wreck. Her aura was so heavy it nearly crushed Gon’s under its dead weight. Her hair, that Gon remembered being mint green, was now nearly half gray. If he looked close enough he could see her hands shaking. When she finally looked up, her eyes were frighteningly dark, with deep rings around them. How long had it been since she slept?

Gon quickly amended his words with, “Are you ok?”

“I know Ging sent you here, and I know what he wants.” Cheadle started, her weary voice still carrying a great deal of patience. “I want you to give him a message: We are dealing with very serious matters right now. I might negotiate with him once we have dealt with these matters. But not now.”

“Ms.-”

“I would appreciate it if both of you were to leave and not come back until our issues are resolved.”

“What’s wrong?” Gon asked simply, his eyebrows knitted in genuine concern.

The Chairman turned away, as if she couldn’t bear looking Gon in the eye anymore. “You and Ging have your answer: I will not be funding your expedition until further notice. Please leave or I will have security escort you out.”

“I’m sorry I bothered you. I didn’t know you were going through something so serious.” Gon’s voice conveyed nothing but honesty. “Do you need anything?”

Cheadle walked over to one of her large tinted office windows, peering down at the city below. And Gon just watched her. She looked like she was contemplating jumping, as if there was no window in the way . . .

“Please leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why I found this chapter so difficult to write. No matter how many times I reread and rewrote the thing and tried to excuse myself, it must be said: I took huge liberties. But I promise, I have a plan. It’s the same plan I’ve had for more than a year now. I wish it wasn’t so difficult to follow through on though haha.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And I sincerely hope it made sense. As for chapter 25, I estimate that it should be up in . . . two or three weeks?? Give or take a few days more likely. I feel that this tale is beginning to come full circle.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way too long to construct. I meant to have it out at least a month ago. So I’ll just go ahead and admit that there was a death in the family that distracted very heavily from getting it done. I wish I was making this up as an excuse, but that just seems to be the course my life is taking right now. 
> 
> I’m very sorry for the delay. If you celebrate Christmas or any other type of holiday around this time of year, I hope it’s going wonderfully for you. Please enjoy this chapter. I don’t have an accurate prediction for Ch. 26 at this point, but it should not take as long as this one did. 
> 
> *Does anyone know the name of Kakin’s capital city? I have used every resource I have trying to find it. I came up empty-handed, and briefly thought about making up a name. But inserting a made-up name felt cheap. And so does leaving the name as “Kakin’s capital” haha. But I suppose it will have to stay that way until an actual name surfaces. If anyone knows what it is, please let me know.

 

Morning was hours away when the airship came within view of its destination. Kakin’s captial* lay nearly dormant in the bluish glow of darkness, sprawled across a dry, nearly plantless landscape. The first structures that caught Kurapika’s eye were the bulbous spires of the royal palace, towering over the rest of the buildings.

The rest of the city seemed rather crowded, its narrow streets snaking their way between tightlypacked districts. The residential areas were even more compact, built on top of each other with increasingly less space between them. For a place that had seen considerable economic growth in the past few years, it didn’t seem that any of that money was put toward infrastructure or even expansion . . . But in terms of needing somewhere to hide, they were definitely in the right place.

It was for the best they arrived when they did, under the cover of a still-dark sky. They couldn’t risk being spotted. Very soon the aircraft would complete its descent, landing somewhere hidden beyond the city limits. And from there, they would continue running.

Kurapika had just finished changing into a straight-collared maroon tunic that made its way to just below his knees, form-fitting ivory pants, and simple flat shoes. Common attire for the people of this country, Mizuken had said. The weight and flow of the fabric was reminiscent of his own tribal attire he’d worn so many years ago . . .

Catching a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror as he pulled his slightly too-long hair into a low ponytail, Kurapika debated removing his earrings.

 _“We can’t afford to stand out.”_ Mizuken had warned them roughly half an hour before their aircraft began its descent.

Frozen in front of his reflection, Kurapika lost track of his thoughts. He tried so hard to separate his feelings from what needed to be done. He had gone through all the motions, done everything he was told, and continued to do so. But the longer this went on, the more impossible it became to shut his mind out.

They were being forced to run and hide like criminals. They took the life of a fellow Hunter they had no personal dealings with. Biscuit might never walk again . . . and soon, Kurapika would never remember what put her in a wheelchair. Or that he’d even met her before.

And no matter how this turned out, Killua would end up in a cage.

_“I’ve been keeping this from you. You need to know . . .”_

Kurapika went numb when Killua finally revealed to him who would be responsible for erasing their memories.

Of course it was Illumi. He was the only Nen-user they knew of who had the ability to toy with someone’s conscious thoughts. How could Kurapika have missed it? He should have known, should have prevented Killua from ever making that call . . .

True to his family’s nature, Illumi would never do anything for free. He would expect payment for this . . . but there was only one thing Illumi ever wanted from Killua, and that was Killua himself.

_“Illumi will not just erase your memories. If you willingly hand your mind over to him, he will take control of you. They will force you to kill again-”_

_“I know the risks, Kurapika. I knew before I even asked for his help.”_

_“Then why would you go through with this?!”_

_“If I can protect you, nothing else matters.”_

Kurapika’s insides twisted in unforgiving knots at the memory of those words. Feeling Killua’s ardent desire to sacrifice himself was terrifying . . . They needed to cancel this meeting with Illumi and find another solution. There had to be another way.

After at least another forty-five minutes of arguing, they settled unsteadily on a compromise: They would contact more able-bodied Nen-users to serve as backup, and Killua was not allowed to block Kurapika out during his and Illumi’s meeting. The blond was to have clear access to Killua’s mind, so the younger male could call for help if he needed it. Killua did not seem fond of either condition, but Kurapika had made his mind up. It was either this, or they abandon the plan altogether.

Killua began honoring their compromise immediately. A few moments after the agreement was reached, he contacted some old friends of his. Using the encrypted communication panel aboard the airship, Killua sent a message to two older Nen-users. Morel and Knov, Kurapika recalled their names as. According to Killua, their abilities were perfect for anyone looking to  
“disappear”. Kurapika hoped that was true. They were going to need all the help they could get at this point.

It had been more than a day since everything had transpired . . . but Kurapika was still in borderline disbelief. How could Killua decide to involve someone so dangerous without him? How could he choose to martyr himself, like it was the right thing to do? Did he really think that little of himself?

A few soft knocks on the doorframe broke Kurapika’s trance. He turned around to see Killua looking at him. The younger male was also dressed in an outfit similar to the blond’s, except the tunic was a deep navy.

The look in his eyes alone told Kurapika it was almost time. The ship would be landing soon.

So many feelings flowed between them: anxiety and fear disguised under the brittle surface of priority. But how much were these priorities really worth, Kurapika couldn’t help but ask. The longer he and Killua continued to bend to the world around them, it began feeling like a game. A twisted game with lopsided rules and sadistic consequences. A game involving their lives and the lives of everyone around them.  
Kurapika eventually gave his partner a solemn nod, took him by the hand and left the room with him.

* * *

 

Morel didn’t like to brag, but he always thought he’d been around the block enough times that nothing could surprise him anymore. But this . . .

This was more than a surprise. All he could do was silently watch the three Nen-users as they exited a sleek, expensive-looking airship. Well, just the two in the back, really. The two who appeared to share one collective life energy.

If Morel hadn’t been looking right at them, he would have never fathomed this actually being real. He barely even recognized Killua. Aside from having grown into a tall and strong young man, he carried a very _different_ energy with him . . . No wonder the kid was so adamant, with an undertone of genuine urgency to his encoded message. In it, he nearly begged Morel and Knov to meet him and two others that he couldn’t name on the outskirts of Kakin’s capital, as quickly and quietly as possible. It was an emergency no one else could know about.

For Killua to say so little and yet be so clearly desperate for help . . . who knew what that ultimately meant, but had to be much bigger than him. Something overwhelming he couldn’t do alone.

Panic shook the two Hunters; they dropped everything they were doing and headed to Kakin. Just the memory was enough to raise the hairs on the back of Morel’s neck.

Although Killua couldn’t tell them at that moment, it was clear: something was very wrong. And now that they were face to face, it was more than obvious . . . Morel had never seen anything like this. He’d seen Nen powers of all levels and abilities, even those that required more than one person to function. But never . . . whatever this was. Killua and the shorter blond at his side radiated such an indescribable, collaborative force even at rest. They were careful enough to mask their power with Zetsu, which did dull Morel’s ability to sense them. But just looking at it showed the technique was barely keeping its grip. As if it were a temporary dam attempting to hold back an ocean.

Even now, being in the presence of this power made Morel feel small.

Once the third Nen-user in their group determined the way was clear, the pair followed him, moving in sync. Each step was deliberate and methodical. Every glance they shared was a conversation. They nearly acted as one being. Morel suddenly felt relief, that he wasn’t going to meet this power on the opposite end of a battlefield. He could pretend to understand it as much as he wanted, but for the first time ever he was witnessing something completely unknown. It was . . . unsettling.

When the initial shock wore, Morel saw Knov hastily cleaning his glasses out of the corner of his eye. If it were any other situation, Morel would have chuckled at that reaction. Instead, he was only left with apprehension settling deep in the pit of his stomach.

What was going on here?

* * *

   
Windswept, sandy hills less than a mile from the captial’s outskirts marked an ideal place for Knov to conjure a glowing portal, which led to his white-gridded Nen dimension. The portal all but disappeared when not in use, making it nearly undetectable. This was the best option for temporary refuge. At least they had a place to escape to now, where no one else could follow.

Morel and Knov, obviously anticipating disaster, had stocked the first Nen room well. There were emergency rations, as well as folding chairs, blankets, sleeping bags, and other assorted supplies to get them through whatever might happen next. Killua even recognized some gear from the last time he’d been in these rooms, during the Chimera Ant Invasion. That was so many years ago, and yet here they were again . . .

Before Killua could even open his mouth to say anything, he found his old friends pointedly looking at him . . . Right. They needed a better explanation of what they were getting into.

The two of them looked patiently expectant, an odd combination to witness. Morel started by pulling up a few folding chairs. Two at first, then three more. It was deathly quiet, the chairs themselves making far too much noise as everyone took a seat.

Killua glanced nervously at Kurapika, who was close by his side, wearing a nearly identical expression.

This was going to sound crazy.

* * *

  
A sudden spell of light-headedness made Morel dizzy. More than once, he wanted to stop the two of them and tell them they weren’t making any sense. But their dynamic, combined auras made Morel shut his mouth before he said anything. No matter how much it felt some kind of sick joke . . . this was real.

Knov leaned forward to confirm, “The storm we saw on the news . . . That was the two of you?”

“Yes.” Killua replied. “That was when we lost Bisky. As far as we know, she’s still in the hospital.”

The blond, Kurapika, had looked away despondently at the mention of the woman. But Killua brought him back to the present with a gentle hand on his thigh. As soon as their eyes met, it happened again: the appearance as if they were talking through a shared gaze alone. Expressions flitted across both their faces, more evidence of dialogue only they could hear. Their master Mizuken didn’t seem at all bothered by the display. He simply leaned back in his chair, attempting to wait the moment out. But Morel and Knov were dumbfounded the longer this went on. After a few seconds of awkward silence the pair was oblivious to, Mizuken eventually cleared his throat.

The sound startled the young Hunters. Kurapika tucked a few stray hairs behind one ear, apologetically glancing around the room.

“We can speak . . . telepathically, I guess.” Killua explained clumsily, obviously not used to talking about their abilities.

Morel made a contemplative noise in his throat, while Knov covered his mouth in deep thought. “What else can you do that you haven’t told us?” came the inevitable question.

“I have borrowed Killua’s electricity before.” Kurapika answered softly. “I don’t have much control over it at all. I did it once, during the storm, and I wasn’t even aware until Killua told me.”

Of course the conversation came back to the storm . . . the wildfire its lightning created had spread to nearly half the forested mountain range. The raging storm had just begun to let up the last Morel had heard, but rock and mudslides it had caused left deep scars on everything around it. Homes and landscapes alike were burnt, buried, flooded, or any combination of the three.

Thank goodness the residents had been evacuated in time. But the land would never be the same. Morel knew just from looking at it; the roads would need repaired (if they could be), trees would need replanted, the mountains’ hills and cliffs were eroded and washed away into smooth, angled craters. As if a giant monster had come and swallowed the tons upon tons of earth there. Seeing that disastrous spectacle on a screen was alarming enough on its own. To know it and these kids were directly connected . . .

“So Cheadle really did order that attack on you?” Morel asked, half in a daze. “That doesn’t sound like her . . .”

“She tried to have us all killed.” Kurapika responded, his and Killua’s eyes growing dark and sullen at the memory. “All we did was try to defend ourselves. We didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”  
Knov spoke up, the look on his face doubtful. “There is no negotiating with her? Not even if we tried to speak on your behalf?”

Killua instantly shook his head. “There were people who had this kind of connection before us. We don’t know much about them, but they were dangerous enough that Cheadle had them killed. So if you told her you even knew about us, she’d just send people after you too.”

Morel sighed. So they really were backed into a corner. “So what’s the plan?”

Killua proceeded to explain . . .

_Jesus._

If Morel thought Killua’s story of how they got to this point was insane, their plan to make peace with the Association was even more so. Erasing their memories of each other, thus erasing their new auras, so Cheadle would stop pursuing them . . . But, what did that mean for them?

Dismay crossed Killua features, just as Morel spoke that last sentence out loud. Regret tainted his blue eyes. He raked a hand through his hair, “If we don’t get rid of it, this can only end one of two ways. Either Cheadle has us killed, or we’re her prisoners forever.”

Morel wasted no time in gesturing to the large collection of emergency supplies neatly stacked in one corner. “There should be enough here to last us all about five days.” the man explained. “Will that give you enough time?”

“I think so.” Killua said with a nod, Kurapika mirroring the gesture. “All I need to do now is find my brother. Everything after that should be easy.”

Now that everyone was on the same page, they waited until nightfall. Preferably after midnight, when there would be the least amount of potential witnesses. Once Killua found Illumi, he would lead him away from any potentially busy areas. And then they could begin negotiation.

* * *

  
Hisoka had to hand it to his new favorites: they were smart, to know Kakin was one of the more ideal countries to escape to. Its overpopulated, underdeveloped cities were some of the easiest places to vanish in. And as an added bonus, the ruthless royal family did not take kindly to foreigners, so it was more than challenging for anyone searching for you to even access the borders legally. Kakin was a simple enough place to hide once you were in; but if you were caught, you stood out to a dangerous extent. There were very few Nen-users here . . . It was a trade-off of sorts.

The benefits far outweighed the drawbacks, provided you could keep your Nen quiet. And Hisoka was very curious as to how a power such as theirs could muzzle itself enough to stay hidden. He smirked to himself, remembering Yorknew and towns surrounding it were still reeling from the effects of that beautiful storm they caused . . .

It had been too long since anything this . . . unpredictable crossed Hisoka’s path. And it would only get more interesting from here on out.

The magician found himself in a dusty, dilapidated part of Kakin’s capital city, with rundown housing and all manner of corroded buildings. If not for the hundreds of people filling those buildings and nearby streets, the whole quarter would appear neglected and abandoned. He walked easily among the citizens, hiding himself beneath a light ivory cloak and hood. As of now, discretion was top priority. At least until the time was right.  
The closer he came to a busy stretch of markets and taverns, the more he felt something strangely familiar in the air. It was the barest trace of Nen Hisoka recognized. He couldn’t help but raise a curious brow at it, following the gossamer thin, nearly invisible trail it left outside one of the more dubious-looking establishments. The situation was made all the more intriguing when Hisoka went inside.

. . . It wasn’t every day that one came across an old friend in such a strange place.

Why was Illumi Zoldyck at a small, raucous bar in this part of town, in the middle of the day no less? Blending in quite well using one of his own jade green outfits. Doing his best to keep his aura as silent as possible without completely activating Zetsu. Obviously not drinking the short glass of rum in his hand, but holding it by the rim and swirling it while staring elsewhere. Not that the other half-drunk patrons would care to notice these details, but it seemed as though Illumi was biding his time . . .

Possibly waiting for something?

Easily making his way past small groups of chatting and drinking locals, Hisoka approached the eldest Zoldyck son without caring that he had already been noticed. It didn’t matter if Illumi knew he was here or not. It wouldn’t affect what Hisoka intended to do.

He hadn’t followed the travel path of little Neon’s airship for nothing.

Without missing a beat, Hisoka stood right next to Illumi, leaning against the bar as he grinned. “What brings you here?” he asked silkily, not quite looking at the dark-haired Hunter.

Without sparing a glance for Hisoka, Illumi replied, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you followed me here.” Down went the glass, the sharp tap as it hit the bar still audible despite the surrounding commotion.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Hisoka said, keeping his cheshire grin. “But believe it or not, I have business of my own. A pet project of mine.”

Illumi’s unmoving porcelain face nearly wrinkled in disdain at Hisoka’s word choice. But the expression was held back, in favor of speaking one last time. “I don’t care why you’re here. Just stay out of my way.” And just like that, Illumi was back to waiting, acting as if the other Nen-user was never there.

Well.

It seemed they had nothing else to say to each other. Hisoka spared a backward glance and a playful smirk as he left, taking the challenge those words brought in stride. What a coincidence, that both of them had such important business in this particular corner of the world . . .

It had taken quite a while until Hisoka knew he was at a safe enough distance from the eldest Zoldyck son. But as soon as he was out of range, he began piecing a few things together.

Though Illumi was strangely far from home, it was possible he was in Kakin for work . . . but Hisoka quickly found that wasn’t the case. The strongest evidence against this was Illumi’s clearly reflexive reaction to Hisoka simply finding him. Casually accusing the magician of following him . . . and blatantly threatening him if they crossed paths again in this city.

Now why would Illumi care so much about being followed? For someone so cold and stoic, it was a more than interesting reaction. His words were a direct threat if Hisoka had ever heard one. Illumi had never been this on-edge in years . . .

From this, only one conclusion could be made: perhaps everything was more connected than Hisoka first thought.

* * *

  
As soon as midnight struck, the plan was put into motion. For Killua, it was an ill sensation of spiraling downward. Into what, he didn’t know . . . what would happen tonight was nearly completely out of his control. The weight of that fact had only been a distant, vague concern until right then. Now, it was real enough to settle heavily on his shoulders and squeeze the breath from his lungs.

Killua didn’t need to be reminded of how deadly this could get, but the fact still haunted him. Hanging in the air, nearly tangible between himself and Kurapika. The two of them had been sitting side by side in near silence, having no idea what to do or say while knowing what lay ahead of them. Either today or tomorrow would most likely mark their last hours of knowing each other. If Killua thought about it too much, it would make him sick again. They couldn’t afford to think anymore. Only focus on the moment they were in; focus on what needed to be done.

They met each other’s gazes very briefly, after a long while of pensive quiet. Killua instantly recognized a very particular determination in the blond’s hazel eyes and shook his head.

 _Don’t you dare._ Kurapika’s puzzled look didn’t fool Killua for a second. _You’re staying here._

A nearly defiant Kurapika now faced him. _I don’t trust him._

_Neither do I._

Kurapika’s thoughts were an emotional whirlwind. He had so many other things he wanted to say. It hurt to look at him, to watch him struggle with words he wouldn’t let himself say. It was as if Killua could taste those words in his own mouth: _Don’t do this . . . Stay with me . . ._

I love you.

If only things had turned out different. If only he didn’t need to purposefully prevent Kurapika from saying those words, from realizing what they meant. Killua had never felt this kind of pain before. He was going to lose this wonderful light in his life; this person whose whole existence needed to be rearranged because of him . . . and they would never know each other again.

 _Stop blaming yourself_ . . . Kurapika admonished, leaning his head back gently on the taller male’s collarbone.

Killua reached around the Kuruta’s shoulders and held him closer. His constricted throat left him mute. His mind went blank, save for one prevailing thought.

Ignore the pain. Bear it . . . for him.

 _Promise me you’ll stay safe_. The words resonated between them as Killua smoothed back long blond bangs and pressed a kiss to Kurapika’s forehead. Their auras responded beautifully, glowing in slow patterns that languidly wove around them. Maybe, somehow Killua might recall this feeling in his new life, even if he ultimately didn’t recognize it . . . even if he didn’t know who the other half of that feeling had been.

Killua forced himself to leave when the time finally came. Turning his back on Kurapika, feeling him _ache_ the farther apart they became, was the most difficult thing in the world to do. And yet, if it meant saving him, Killua would detach himself. He would give up everything.

* * *

  
After Killua left, the five Nen-users had split into two main groups: Killua and Morel were in the outside world, while Kurapika, Mizuken, and Knov remained in the Nen dimension. It was for the best that they mitigated their presence, and only revealed themselves if they absolutely had to.

Which was why Morel’s role was so critical. He would remain under Zetsu, at a safe and undetectable distance from the city, while Killua and Illumi met. He would utilize his Smoke Troopers, smoke manipulated in the form of a soldier, to communicate with the group in the Nen room. If anything were to go wrong during the meeting, no matter how small, Kurapika would know instantly. Which meant Morel would know just as quickly and could use his smoke-based abilities to help Killua escape, if need be.

Their failsafe of sorts would take precise timing and synchronization. But it was only in case they needed to do anything at all. As much as Kurapika didn’t trust Illumi, he would withhold his judgment. Maybe this could end up being relatively painless . . . Speculation aside, all they could really do now was sit and wait.

Kurapika was now sitting in the middle of the stark white floor in a meditative position. His hands resting palm-up in his lap as he closed his eyes and used his Nen to watch after his partner. He kept his breathing slow and steady as he focused. Through his mind’s eye he could see Killua, skillfully navigating the rooftops and narrow alleys of the outer city. Even though he had the extra insurance of a dark cloak with a hood to cover his head, he was agile and silent enough to move unnoticed. No average person would be able to spot him. Kurapika allowed himself a moment of relief, for now.

But it was only a matter of time before Killua found Illumi.

Kurapika still wasn’t sure if he was prepared for this plan that Killua basically made without him. He understood why Killua felt pressured to make this move. But at the same time, Killua making decisions for the both of them like this was dangerous . . . Don’t get distracted, keep watch. Illumi could appear at any time. And because of the lack of Nen-users in this place, he wouldn’t be hard to spot.

Right as the thought crossed Kurapika’s mind, there he was. The thick, black tendrils of Illumi Zoldyck’s idle power was unsheathed from a sort of semi-Zetsu, striking the bonded pair’s senses as it reacted to the presence of another Nen user. Kurapika felt winded, and Killua must have been too. But the younger male darted toward the source of it, his sudden bout of nerves causing Kurapika’s pulse to jump beneath skin. Control your breathing, keep watching him.

Mentally reaching Killua through what was technically another dimension was difficult on its own, not to mention the physical space that was continually put between them the farther away Killua got. It was getting hard to concentrate, as if actively tracking Killua was taking a physical toll. Kurapika’s mind blurred. He felt a bead of sweat trail from his hairline down to his chin. His hands, once relaxed, were now very slightly shaking.

 _Drop it if you need to. Don’t hurt yourself._ The distance of Killua’s voice in his head only caused panic.

 _No, I’ve got it._ Kurapika protested. He pushed his mind to keep holding onto Killua’s exact location. Now more than ever, Kurapika had to watch after his partner. He couldn’t fail now.  
The two brothers were now racing toward some remote, dark corner of the city . . . It was hard to tell exactly where they were now . . .

A dizzying headache caused Kurpika to bow his head. The shaking in his hands made a slow crawl to his shoulders . . . Kurapika felt Mizuken and Knov at his side, surely watching him. They must have noticed his struggling . . .

“He found him. They’re going somewhere where they can talk.” Kurapika explained, barely managing to get the words past the tension in his lungs.

The older Hunters said nothing in response, but the blond sensed their understanding.

The Zoldyck brothers were now in some kind of abandoned building with high ceilings and large, dusty windows . . . Illumi was imposing as ever, his form a tall, spindly shadow immersed in darkness. Killua reached for the hood of his cloak, letting it fall back to reveal himself.

* * *

  
It was the oddest sensation, not having to look up at Illumi anymore. They were nearly the same height . . . So much time had passed. And it was such extraordinary circumstances that caused them to meet again. Time had not changed Killua’s brother as much as he expected. Illumi still looked in his element at he stood immersed in shadow, and was all the more daunting for it. It was nostalgic, in the strangest sense of the word.

Killua used to unconditionally fear this man, used to work so hard for his sparse-at-best approval. It was hard to explain how he felt now, staring down the same person he harbored so much _emotion_ for. So much helplessness, misery and rage. But Illumi was not in control right now. And he wouldn’t be until Killua gave the word.

Despite Illumi’s expressionless black eyes, the elder Zoldyck managed to hold a trace of guarded suspicion in his features. He did not move nor blink. He simply asked. “Who are you?”

The question startled Killua. He’d nearly forgotten what merging with Kurapika had done to himself and his aura . . . “I’m your brother-”

Illumi silently interrupted with the quirk of a brow.

“-and whether you believe me or not is your choice. But right now, I need your help.”

Illumi took a single, graceful step forward. His flowing jet-black hair followed his form like a fluid shadow. His sharp gaze pierced through Killua. “I don’t recognize you.”

“That’s what I need your help with.” Killua stated, feeling desperation claw through his throat. “Aniki, I need you to listen-”

“The Killua I spoke to over the phone said he would meet me here in three days. It has been more than four days since then. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“We got held up on the way here.” Killua endured another rather scathing look from Illumi. We? the look seemed to ask. But Killua couldn’t let Illumi push him around like this. He stood his ground and replied, “I can’t answer all your questions about what’s happening right now. Believe me, I still have questions. But I am your brother, and I wouldn’t have called you here and made you wait all this time for no reason.”

Illumi did not look convinced. In fact, he almost appeared angry. His lightless eyes narrowed, resembling a viper who was very close to losing its patience.

“If you are who you say you are . . . Where is Alluka?”

The question was one Killua hadn’t expected. Despite that, he clenched his fists, staying defiantly silent and unyielding.

But Illumi just continued to push. “Only the real Killua would know the answer to this. Where is Alluka?”

“ _Leave her out of this_.” Killua spat, his eyes narrowing viciously at the repeated mention of his sister. This had nothing to do with Alluka, and Killua would be damned if Illumi got any of _that_ information out of him. With any luck, it would be erased as well once the night was through.

Illumi seemed placated by Killua’s reaction, any traces of judgment in his face slowly disappearing. He then tilted his chin up ever so slightly, a subtle signal for Killua to continue.

“I wish I had a better explanation, but I don’t.” Killua began solemnly. “There are people looking for us. And the only way they’ll leave us alone is if our memories are erased.”

“You and someone else?” Illumi mused.

“Just me and one other person.”

“How much time do you need taken away?”

“Only the past five months. If you do this for us,” Killua took a deep breath. Willing enough oxygen into his lungs to stop himself from shaking. “I’ll go back home with you. And I’ll never leave again.”

Illumi had countless questions concerning this entire strange situation. Killua could feel it, despite not being able to see it in his brother’s features. He half-expected to be interrogated . . . but it never came. Within seconds, Illumi had accepted the situation. After all, Killua knew he would never refuse an offer like this . . .

“You will not leave my sight until we get back to the estate.” Killua nodded in response, and the elder Zoldyck silently awaited further instruction.

Fear permeated Killua, spinning in his head. Cold and palpable, it chilled his spine and gripped at the back of his neck. He’d just signed his life away, and that had barely registered in his numb state. But now came the next obvious step: who’s mind would get taken apart first? Illumi could only safely rearrange one person’s memories at a time. And every second Killua spent thinking about it was only delaying the inevitable. The younger Zoldyck swallowed.

Kurapika needed to go first. Killua didn’t want to risk putting the blond in any pain as they were inevitably torn from each other. He could make himself bear it.

“They need to go first.” he eventually said.

Illumi gave a nod of his own with a soft, pensive hum. Well, lead the way, a brief glance seemed to imply.

Killua turned to do exactly that. Illumi moved to follow him. They continued, nearly at the door they came in through.

Killua wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Something more complicated? Or something this easy? He didn’t imagine he would feel so detached. In fact, Illumi's emotionless face was an accurate description of how Killua felt right now: next to nothing. Kurapika felt very similar, as soon as he knew the deal was struck.

Their auras began stuttering not too long after, starting and stopping in clumsy shapes. The static dissonance of being too far from Kurapika suddenly buzzed in Killua’s head, quickly giving him a headache. No, this wasn’t right . . . Was this really how the beginning of the end was supposed to be? Was it too late to feel anything?

All of Killua’s thoughts abruptly ceased as something outside the door caught his attention. He didn’t properly register what it was until his found he couldn’t move.

A towering wall of malevolent, bloodthirsty energy collided directly with the abandoned building they almost left. Its ethereal waves overtook Killua for a moment, his senses blinded by the violent sensation. His first instinct was to get away from it.

In a blur of motion, Killua leapt away from the door, nearly meeting one of the far walls in his panic. He knew instantly who was just beyond their intended exit, the moment he felt that unmistakable Nen. And it made him furious.

Why the hell was Hisoka here?

Worse yet, Illumi was not surprised by this. He remained by the door, body still and eyes blank. As if he anticipated this . . . Killua started at his brother, feeling a scowl pulling at his mouth. They agreed to meet alone . . .

“Why is he here?”

“Did we not reach an agreement?” Illumi responded, his casual tone causing more alarm to prickle down Killua’s spine.

Killua barely restrained the growl in his voice, “Answer me.”

“Hisoka has no relevance to our deal.” Illumi calmly announced, walking toward the younger Zoldyck. He even knew the man was here . . . Hisoka’s aura penetrated their surroundings, menacing as it loomed several dozens of feet over both of them.

How long had Hisoka been here? How much did he know? Why would Illumi enlist his help? Killua immediately felt like an idiot. He should have known better than to try to trust him, regardless of any family ties he thought might be there . . .

 _I’m sending help_. Kurapika’s voice reverberated in Killua’s head, sounding far too distant.

But just as Killua heard the words, Illumi darted forward, becoming a blur and leaving a surge of dust in his wake. Terror unlike any other coated Killua’s veins in ice. There was no time to even turn around and run. Illumi caught him by one of his arms, the impact of his grip alone causing bone to splinter.

“I didn’t ask him to come here.” Illumi reaffirmed, his dead black eyes searching Killua’s. The younger Zoldyck couldn’t breathe as he felt Illumi’s Nen ooze down his captured arm, trying to smother him with its dark power. “Let me help you, Killu. So we can go home . . .”

Before Killua could blink, he was staring down a golden pin nearly the length of the hand that held it. Poised dangerously over his forehead, inches away from striking.

For as long as Killua could remember, his brother had always been stronger than him. Even with his new combination of Nen, Killua froze as soon as Illumi touched him. He was paralyzed in his brother’s grasp, unable to even struggle.

“Mother will be so happy to see you again.”

Killua felt the point of the needle touch his skin, blood trickling in thin lines down his face. He closed his eyes.

It wasn't supposed to end like this . . .

Suddenly, Illumi let go. There was a rush of air, implying he had leapt back and away. But the reality couldn’t have been more different.

It was when Killua’s senses returned to him that he felt the warm weight of concentrated Nen on his hand, and an odd tug of energy on his heart.

Kurapika’s chains were there, stretching from Killua’s hand to Illumi’s arm. They constricted around the elder Zoldyck’s arm, and had cleanly snapped it in four different places. The harsh, copper scent of Illumi’s blood alone was horrifying. Illumi however did not seem fazed, instead focusing inquisitively on the very odd power that ensnared him. But the chains retracted all too soon, leaving Illumi’s mangled limb as the only horrifying proof they had attacked him.

Killua nearly wretched, staring at the blood-smeared chain links around his hand in shock.

“You’ve gotten so much stronger.” Illumi simply commented, using his remaining arm to produce another shining golden needle. “It’s a shame.”

Killua was so lost and disoriented that he didn’t hear his brother, didn’t feel him begin to approach again. His Nen roared around him, acting akin to a startled beast he couldn’t control. He was so aware of the raw strength of Kurapika’s chains . . . no, they were _their_ chains now. The point of the Judgement Chain inside Killua’s chest was razor sharp, resting atop his pounding heart. Static rang heavily in his ears. He was fully numb, deaf and blind to the world around him.

He didn’t feel it when he hit the ground beneath him.

* * *

  
One little push. That was all it took to tear this temporary alliance apart.

And Hisoka knew if he could trust anyone to act predictably in that moment, it was the bonded pair. Of course they needed protection, being so volatile at this uncertain stage in their connection. So they brought on more muscle. That much was certain in the way Hisoka felt a third presence of Nen balloon around Killua. A manipulated smoke barrier that Illumi could not break through, no matter how many times it was struck . . . Creative. The magician had been counting on this plan of theirs having a failsafe, but not one so thoroughly perfect.

Hisoka used that lovely opportunity to disappear without a trace, as soon as he knew Killua was in good hands.

If the need had arisen, Hisoka would have taken Killua away from Illumi himself. He’d earn Illumi’s inevitable wrath (as if he hadn’t already). But how dare the elder Zoldyck try to take apart his pretty new toys. If anyone reserved the right to be angry, it was Hisoka. The assassin selfishly threatened to take this beautiful super weapon away from the world, when it had barely begun to bloom . . .

Hisoka couldn’t help but marvel at how everything fell so flawlessly into place, after he released the fury of his Nen. Killua’s instant mistrust of Illumi, and the ultimate rescinding of their fragile-at-best “deal”. But the expected turn of events had such an interesting twist. Killua snapped his older brother’s arm like a twig, using his lover’s ability that seemingly came out of nowhere. But Hisoka knew better . . .

They were _so close_. Almost there. Just a little more . . . Oh, the wait was so painfully tantalizing.

But it would be worth it.

Hisoka’s feral grin spread from ear to ear. He hadn’t expected this to be so easy.

* * *

   
It was curious, the sensation Gon felt as night descended. It had taken him all day to really digest what transpired in Cheadle’s office yesterday.

She was more than ready to have security escort both himself and Ging off the premises. The stony, resolute look on the Chairman’s face was all Gon needed to make that conclusion. But everything changed when Ging invited himself in.

He strode in through the wooden double doors, his confidence unwavering. He readily announced, _“I figured out your little secret.”_

The Chairman nearly bared her teeth. _“Get out.”_

_“Sure, it’s not the same people from last time. But the principal hasn’t changed. And for whatever reason, you can’t handle these ones.”_

_“I said get out.”_

_“We felt the aftershock of a storm they created. After doing a little digging, I found an exact signature match on a mountain range near Yorknew. That was them, wasn’t it?”_

_“Get the hell out of my office!”_

_“Just listen to me for a second.”_ Ging reasoned, keeping his voice low and controlled. His tone was enough to pacify Cheadle for a moment. And so he continued. _“We can track them down for you. We already know what their signature feels like. With it being so strange, it won’t be hard to find. So what do you say?”_

What had they really agreed to?

Ging had a rather smug look on his face that didn’t settle well with Gon. Of course it was because he finally got his way. But at what cost?

 _“These Nen users feel very peculiar. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, you might miss them without knowing.”_ Cheadle had explained, more to Gon than anything else. _“When they are together, they feel like one person in multiple bodies. When they are apart, they feel like multiple people in one body.”_

It was something Gon had never heard of before. What type of Nen ability was that?

_“If you find them and hunt them down, you will have all the funding you need.”_

Hunt them down? She didn’t outright say kill, but . . . something wasn’t right. They were talking about that shockwave Gon and Ging had felt before. The one that didn’t feel violent or dangerous because it wanted to be, but because it was forced. Gon would never mistake that kind of feeling. What he felt from that aura and the Chairman’s obvious distress toward it didn’t add up. What was really going on here?

Well, there was only one way to find out.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. It has been too long.
> 
> What can I say that I haven’t already said before? After so many months of silence, there isn’t much else I can say to excuse myself. Not that I plan to.
> 
> I do want to say there have been some major changes in my life. I made another cross country move and am now living in Boulder, Colorado. It is absolutely gorgeous here, and my partner and I like it much better than Miami already. Although I never mentioned it, in Florida there were a lot of complications and things weren’t quite working out. Hopefully this move will be our last for a long while.
> 
> Also something I want to mention is I’ve seen a lot of readers telling me their first language isn’t English. It honestly blows my mind. Being essentially American (half-Italian, half-Scottish if that counts), I’m not nearly as talented as you all are haha. To know you’ve gone to such great lengths to read my writing is beyond remarkable to me. I really don’t feel as if I’m deserving of all the time and effort you must have spent.
> 
> Thank you to everyone, regardless, for allowing me to be a small part of your life.
> 
> I’m sorry there’s been so much time between uploads. I sincerely want to do everything I can to update a bit more frequently. Adjusting to a new life out here hasn’t been as challenging as Miami was, so hopefully I can make better use of this time.

Chapter 26

 

_“Get Killua out of there!”_

 Morel started running, as soon as he heard Knov’s frantic order through his smoke soldier.

 Time slowly ground to a halt as Morel came within view of the abandoned building. The night breeze died, dissipating into desert sand. A distant rush of scraping metal dimly met Morel’s ears. The distressed echo of hybrid Nen caused him to lunge forward, racing into the huge empty building without thinking.

 He summoned a heavy plume of smoke, encasing Killua before Illumi’s pitch-black energy could reach him again.

 Morel felt the assassin zero in on him the moment he made his presence known. Dark, menacing flames of Nen and deep black eyes threatened him instantly, every surge of aura promising him a fate worse than death if he didn’t _stand down_.

 But Morel wasn’t going anywhere. He dug his heels into the dusty floor, using his intricately-carved smoking pipe to brace himself. He challenged Illumi through his Nen, preparing to materialize more smoke if need be.

 As Illumi tried to turn his full attention to him, Morel felt an unexpected force slam all its ethereal weight against his smoke barrier, from the inside. Each blow caused thick rings of energy to flare out from under the smoke itself. It was enough to throttle the very foundation of Morel’s Nen.

 A monstrous power was building within the dome of smoke. Unrefined and raw in the purest sense, its sheer brute force cried angrily for retribution. It grew, shifted, _changed_ . . .

 Morel's vision blurred as a _chain_ broke though his impenetrable Nen ability and pierced right through Illumi’s chest, constricting around what appeared to be his slow-beating heart.

 Morel surrendered his futile hold on this power, knowing it was a fool’s errand to try slowing it down.

 What was unleashed was a tidal wave of energy, drowning Morel with all the strength it commanded. He grasped at his throat, suddenly unable to breathe. His senses were smothered, leaving him more vulnerable than he’d felt in years.

 In Morel’s numb, blind shock it occurred to him: the Chimera Ants’ king would have been all but a plaything to this colossal, godlike fusion of Nen. It could kill both himself and Illumi . . . no, the _whole capital_ if it so wished. It could even extend far beyond that, eliminating every living thing on the continent.

 Once the asphyxiating sensation waned, Morel blinked the epicenter of this otherworldly energy into view. Killua stood as if he had never collapsed, his silhouette radiating a bright, lethal energy that flooded the room in white. An outstretched right arm was fitted in chains as he stared Illumi down with luminescent scarlet eyes.

 Killua’s life energy howled in Morel’s ears as it whipped around the building, nearly deafening the older Hunter. The structure itself creaked and the walls splintered. Shattered windows expanded and contracted, the crumbled glass within them unable to fall. The rhythmic push and pull of Killua’s energy was all that kept the entire building standing. If not for the swirling, pressurized vortex, it would have deteriorated when Morel retracted his smoke barrier.

 All of Killua’s fury was directed at Illumi, who dangled by a singular glowing stretch of chains protruding from his chest. The elder Zoldyck remained perfectly still, surely paralyzed but appearing calm as his younger brother’s Nen resided forcefully within him. His dark eyes were wide, looking surprised, _impressed_ even.

 Suddenly, Morel heard a voice. Killua had not once opened his mouth, but it sounded as if he and Kurapika were together, speaking in unison.

_If you touch either of us again, you will die. If you use your Nen against us, you will die. When we release you, you will leave and never return._

 Killua released his brother in a massive pulse of Nen. The older Zoldyck kneeled instantly, bowing his head and clutching at his open, bleeding chest with his remaining arm. Struggling to breathe as he shuddered uncontrollably.

 Killua’s Nen still coiled itself around the elder Zoldyck’s heart. It was likely a permanent affliction unless Killua decided otherwise.

 Killua watched the assassin with undecipherable red eyes for a brief moment. Waiting for Illumi to give him any excuse to strike. When none came, Killua slowly turned toward Morel.

 Being the focus of that stare was enough to make Morel seize mid-breath. He would not stand a chance if Killua turned on him.

 But something unforeseen happened: Killua’s burning red eyes _pleaded_ with Morel . . . then he opened his mouth, presumably to speak. But instead of words, a bright streak of blood fell from his lips, rolling thickly down his jaw.

 The crimson in his eyes along with all signs of consciousness faded. His weakening Nen released the building, and everything began falling to pieces.

 

* * *

 

Mizuken held on to Kurapika’s dead weight, his firm grip the only thing keeping his student from hitting the white tiles beneath them. The pristine blankness of the Nen dimension was marred by dark red splotches that grew every time Kurapika coughed. It didn’t matter how little he was breathing or how still he was. The red grew, uneven spatters morphing to a small pool.

 It was alarming how much his condition had deteriorated since Killua left.

 Every one of Kurapika’s shaking breaths was inevitably punctuated by red. It flowed from his mouth in drops and streams alike, beginning to soak into the blanket wrapping his ice-cold body.

 Mizuken spoke to his student the entire time, unsure if he was heard. There was no recognition in Kurapika’s eyes when he did open them. He had since lost the ability to respond . . . But Mizuken continued to speak, occasionally jostling a slender shoulder when Kurapika got too quiet. The Nen master took the shaky inhale that always followed as a good sign.

 Proof that Kurapika was still fighting.

 The man’s mind strayed to how wet his robes were becoming, the dampness seeping farther through layers of fabric until it stuck to his skin.

 Kurapika took a deep, shuddering breath that unfurled into endless coughing. More blood followed. More than Mizuken had seen since Kurapika first collapsed. He coughed and hacked, stiffly curling in on himself. And then an eerie stillness.

 A final exhale.

 Mizuken shook him again.

 The Nen master’s head was spinning. Where was Morel? Where was _Killua_?

 Knov had left in an attempt to find them. But he hadn’t returned.

 They needed to find them. Mizuken couldn’t allow himself to think of what would happen otherwise.

                                                                  

* * *

 

 An eruption of Nen from miles away left Knov’s ears ringing.

 He didn’t need to get any closer to know it was Killua. Nor did he want to risk it. If Killua was able to shake the atmosphere from such a distance . . .

 It was horrifying and intriguing all at once, that this power was more overwhelming than the Chimera Ants’ royal guards . . . and yet it was still distinctly human.

 A supernatural strength transcending its vessels, and yet retaining the humanity from which it came.

 Killua’s energy continued to bombard Knov’s senses, even from so far away. It pulsed and angrily blazed, surely unleashing hell upon whatever was responsible for awakening it. It was destroying the entire structure everyone was in, and yet simultaneously keeping it standing . . .

 But the energy soon slowed, stopping altogether. It faded to nearly nothing, and only then could Knov sense a terrified Morel and a very injured third presence attempting to escape the disintegrating building.

 Morel scrambled to get a hold of Killua in time and ran, desperately fleeing the scene.

 Knov took off in their direction, readying himself to bring them both back to the Nen dimension as soon as they were within range.

 

* * *

 

Morel caught a glimpse of Knov’s aura speeding toward him before it had enveloped both himself and Killua in a glowing portal of Nen.

 Upon a sudden transition from the dead of night to a bright, gridded room, Morel was met with the sight of a limp, bloody form hanging in Mizuken’s arms.

 The man had shouted something as soon as he saw Morel. But he didn’t hear him. His ears rung as he panted and stumbled forward. He dropped to his knees, laying Killua down right by his partner. They were both so red . . .

 He sat back, dazed. Mizuken was saying something again. Morel never heard it. He felt Knov attempting to pull him away from the two bleeding bodies.

 Again Mizuken’s mouth moved, and Morel heard nothing over the pounding in his ears.

 The overbearing scent of blood tainted the air. Morel’s eyes were frozen on the bonded pair’s ashen, lifeless faces.

 Mizuken leaned over them, grasping one of their wrists and holding it beneath his fingers. It was an eternity before he peered up.

 He looked as if he would collapse right where he kneeled.

 "They’re still alive.”

 

* * *

 

Mizaistom wished the silence in the empty conference room, no matter how tense and uneasy, could go on forever. But it couldn’t be so. It was with anguish he turned his gaze to Beans, who had taken to mechanically sipping at already-cold tea.

 “I know what I have to do.” The Vice Chairman began, almost immediately averting his eyes. “Honestly, I . . . wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

 “Have you seen her recently?” Came Beans’ hushed voice.

 “No.”

 “Please prepare yourself.” At Mizaistom’s puzzled look, Beans continued, “This ordeal has taken its final toll on her.”

 Mizaistom’s heart sank. “I have to do something.”

 Beans small, gloved hands clenched his mug. “I know how difficult this is. But you must accept that you might not be able to save her.”

 “I can’t let that stop me from trying.” The Ox left his seat, suddenly finding the will to leave the room.

 “I never said we shouldn’t try.” Beans clarified before Mizaistom could reach for a polished door handle. “But she is not the same person anymore. Don’t expect that of her.”

 Without responding, Mizaistom left the conference room.

 

* * *

 

 

The gaping maw of endless oblivion surrounded her.

 It breathed down the fine hairs on the back of her neck. Tasting her fear. It loomed over her, mocking her. Trying to make her feel small. Like she would rather die than face this limitless _thing_ they still knew _nothing_ about . . .

 But Cheadle knew better. Better than all the others.

 It had to be destroyed. That was the only way, and no one could see it but her. She had to prove them wrong. Tell them they were out of their minds for thinking _talking_ would stop an unstoppable force.

 She _felt_ it. The sheer force that dominated everything in its presence and beyond. This gateway to hell that blazed before her eyes. The world’s punishment for not knowing any better.

 So this was true judgement.

 But Ging promised! He would find them. He would find them and hunt them down. And all would be right again.

 Until the next anomaly. And so the cycle would continue.

 . . . No, not now . . .

 Not this again. Get ahold of yourself. Wait, please . . . not now . . .

 You’ve long been in over your head.

 You can’t escape this. No one can!

 Not even death stops this! You’ve seen that for yourself!

 You think you can fight this. Someone with no power of her own, slaying an almighty demon the likes of which no Hunter could ever conceive.

 You’re a fool, Yorkshire! A damned fool who can’t save anyone, let alone herself!

 What an appropriate end for you.

 

* * *

 

Mizaistom couldn’t bring himself to watch as the 14th Chairman of the Hunters’ Association was forcibly removed from her office. What were once her security guards held her firmly by her upper arms, the metal cuffs on her wrists rattling with every sluggish step.

 The Ox didn’t know if it was good or bad that Cheadle went down without much of a fight. Either way, it felt wrong. He wished he didn’t have to do this to someone he had so much respect for . . .

 Mizaistom waited for the guards escorting Cheadle to pass him in the hallway. He held his breath when she deliberately made the officers stop in front of him.

 Her head was resolutely bowed until it snapped up. A fanged scowl twisted the Dog’s features as wild, enraged blue-green eyes bored holes into the Vice Chairman.

 “Are you happy now?” Cheadle seethed, her voice a hissing whisper. “Did you finally get what you wanted?”

 Mizaistom’s words were lost when he met his former colleague’s stare. Seeing someone he’d once called a friend in such a state . . . Someone he’d admired for her patience and quiet strength, reduced to a paranoid and vengeful shell of herself. It was hard to maintain eye contact, but Mizaistom couldn't allow himself to look away.

 “We want to help you, Cheadle.”

 “Some help you are.” Cheadle snarled, still baring pointed canines. “I was the only one willing to do anything . . . And now we’ll all die.” A growl resonated deep in the Chairman’s throat. “I hope you know that . . . I hope you’re happy, now that you’ve damned us all to hell.”

 Mizaistom simply looked away from his former friend to address her escorts. “Please see that the doctors take care of her-”

 The Vice Chairman was interrupted by Cheadle lunging forward and spitting directly at him, spattering the front of his suit jacket.

 “You _monster_!” She screamed, thrashing in the guards’ grip as they began pulling her away. “You’ve killed us!! You’ve killed us all!! _I hope you’re happy_!!!”

 She continued shrieking and fighting security every step of the way down the hall to the nearest elevator. When the doors slid closed and Cheadle was gone, a sad weight rested atop Mizaistom’s heart.

 He knew the hospital Cheadle was being taken to was one of the best, specializing in psychiatric care. But the core of his chest twisted painfully knowing he had to force her away to get her the help she needed.

 He had to remind himself to breathe and stay calm. Now that Cheadle was going to a safe place, he could reunite the Zodiacs and they could focus on moving forward.

 

* * *

 

“How are you feeling?”

 It was the first thing Neon could think to say. It jumped out of her mouth without permission, out of sheer worry. Her heart hammered in her chest the longer there was no response.

 She hadn’t expected Biscuit to wake up so soon. She had only come to check on the woman . . . girl? The information her agents gathered confirmed that Biscuit was currently sixty-three years old. Which made little sense, judging by her appearance alone. A little more research revealed this dainty form was a Nen glamour, an ability of hers. Which again, made little sense. Wouldn’t this glamour have been dispelled the moment Biscuit was attacked?

 Senritsu eventually explained that Biscuit’s attacker could have placed her Nen in a stasis. Meaning she was stuck in that form. For how long? That had yet to be determined.

 But she was awake now, sitting up in bed and fiddling with the saline drip attached to her arm.

 "Where are they?” she asked with a rasp, as if Neon had never previously spoken.

 Regardless, Neon answered, “I made sure they got to Kakin safely. But I haven’t heard anything beyond that.”

 Biscuit’s hand fell away from the line in her arm. It rose to thread through her short blond bob. She lifted her head, and Neon watched in silence as her mouth began to twist into a frown. Her magenta eyes glistened for only a moment before she blinked it away.

“They’ve been gone too long.” Biscuit determined, her head slowly shaking as she spoke. “I have to find them.”

 Neon stepped forward. “You’re not in any shape to go anywhere.”

 Biscuit looked ready to argue as she prepared to leave the bed. But when her lower half didn’t respond, she froze.

 Again, words leapt fruitlessly from Neon. “Biscuit, I’m sorry.”

 The older woman remained frozen for a long stretch of time, her eyes alight with shock as she stared off at a far wall. She seemed trapped in her own mind; as if Neon was no longer in the room.

 Biscuit’s head suddenly fell to her hands. And she sobbed.

 Neon stood in the doorway, unsure if she should say anything else. She could scarcely imagine what chain of events brought this poor woman to such a desperate and vulnerable state.

 The woman cried for long minutes, wiping away large, shining tears that only came right back.

 Eventually, the sobs quieted and slowed. Biscuit used a corner of her sheets to dab away wet tracks on her cheeks. She hiccupped slightly, catching her breath. Neon patiently waited for her to calm down, expecting to be told to leave. But the order never came.

 After regaining her composure, Biscuit raised an arm, staring at its outstretched palm. Neon immediately recognized it as an attempt to gather her Nen in her hand.

 It failed.

 And then came a bitter laugh. “I’m effectively useless.”

 Neon held her tongue. There were so many things she wanted to say in response. But they weren’t important. What was important was the task ahead.

 “We’ll find them.”

 Biscuit paused at those words. She regarded Neon cautiously. “It’s bad enough we’ve gotten you this involved.”

 “So why not follow through and let me help you.” Neon stated, rather than asked. “You said it yourself: you can’t do this alone.”

 The women let silence fall between them. It stretched on, Biscuit deep in thought while Neon watched her. Eventually, the elder of the two seemed to make up her mind.

 “Only if you’re absolutely sure.”

 

* * *

 

Botobai forced himself to stay awake, despite the exhaustion that threatened to consume his consciousness. For the past few hours, nausea, headaches, and all manner of vague pains plagued him. A feeling of slipping in and out of his own head always loomed. And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. The one he was bound to.

Glimpses of her cloaked form lying on its side in a metal cell surfaced. Vertigo overtook her when she attempted to rise. So she stayed where she was, a hand gently coming to her head when the room began to spin before her. Her jagged Nen ebbed and flowed in unstable waves, threatening to cut even the thick metal surrounding her into ribbons. Botobai felt her heart race as she struggled to steady each shaking breath. She suffered just as he did, perhaps even more so.

 And yet they were both so calm.

 The former Zodiac made himself sit at a small, sturdy table, beside the narrow windows of his kitchen. He caught his breath and relished warm evening rays that spilled in through thick glass panes. The warm, peaceful atmosphere provided the perfect amount of golden light to write by. And that was just what he planned to do; while there was still time.

 The Dragon felt M listening intently to the muted scratch of ink pen on ivory paper, if for no other reason than to help her stay awake. He had to admit, it was serving the same purpose for himself. They both wanted nothing more than rest.

 Their shared fatigue caused his grip on the pen to falter. The dark ink would smear from the page to his hand, but thankfully not enough to obscure his words. Despite the pain, he continued. These words needed to be understood.

  _My friends,_

_I’m sure you know the truth about my declining health now. I never wished to hide my condition from you. I only meant to serve our council and our Association with my entire being. But I did not write these words to discuss something you already know._

_M’s time is at hand. Her life energy leaves her even as I write. As does my own strength, which fades more with every passing hour. The end to both our suffering is coming very soon._

_Before that time comes, I want to make certain that you receive a vital piece of information. It is a file included in my will, which you will find beneath this letter. I’m sorry we were not able to get it to you sooner. Please make use of it in any way you can._

_This letter marks my last words to you. There is no easy way to admit that. But know that I am at peace. I have known this would be the result since the very beginning, and am well prepared for this day. I urge you to stay strong and focused. Never forget your humanity._

_I have never been prouder to serve alongside such a talented and capable council of Hunters. I trust you will do what needs to be done._

_Always your faithful friend,_

_Botobai Gigante_

 The ailing Dragon set his pen down, leaning back in the tall wooden chair. He sensed M gathering what little was left of them in that moment; at least she had a bit of strength to sit upright now.

 It was almost over.

 A sense of tranquility swept over them. Botobai looked to the vibrant, gleaming sunset beyond the narrow kitchen window that warmed his weakened bones.

 This moment marked the beginning. Of what, they would never truly get to find out. But the two of them were at ease, knowing with this last act they had given all they could.

 Mizaistom and the others would see through what was started four long years ago. And it was with that knowledge that Botobai could finally leave the rest to them.


End file.
